


Shoulder to Lean On

by LilyTheNinjaGirl



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Best Friends, Dream Needs A Hug, Dream gets a hug, Dream isn't taking care of himself, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Forgetting to eat, Friendship, George notices, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Passing Out, Platonic Relationships, Sapnap is a good friend too, Sickfic?, Stress, The Graphic Violence warning is only for one chapter, angst with fluff, gen - Freeform, george goes to florida, losing sleep, platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyTheNinjaGirl/pseuds/LilyTheNinjaGirl
Summary: Dream has everything a 21 year old could want. His childhood dreams fulfilled, YouTube success, internet fame, more than enough money, and plenty of close friends all around the world. However, the pressure of his career has started to get to him. The loneliness of all of his friends being online, the anxiety about ever revealing his face, the accusations about cheating his speedruns and staging his Manhunts, and the hate comments are starting to slowly drag him down. However, he avoids telling his best friends George and Sapnap and tries to distract himself, not realizing how dangerous his lack of self care and his stress levels have become. After passing out on a voice call with George, his best friend finally realizes that something is very wrong. However, no matter how much he wishes he could reach out to Dream, George is all the way across the ocean! Unless....
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 373





	1. Something Amiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Just wanted to establish a few things:
> 
> 1\. Dream, George, and Sapnap have all stated that they don't mind having fics written about them. If they ever express discomfort about this in the future, I will delete the fic.  
> 2\. I am writing about Dream, George, and Sapnap's online persona's or "characters". I am not writing about the real people themselves, just kind of the concept or idea of their online characters, if that makes sense.  
> 3\. This fic won't have any slash. You can interpret it however you want, but I'm going to write Dream and George as really close friends. They will retain the flirting/joking about a relationship and have platonic moments that could be interpreted as romantic if you want to read it with rose-colored glasses. Up to you.

The evening had started off well enough. George moved his mug far enough away from his electronics to be safe before sitting down in his comfortable chair and booting up his equipment. It took several moments for everything to come to life, load, and start running. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket as he double checked that everything was connected and secured, so he pulled it out and set it on his desk. The messages were from Dream and Sapnap, and since he would be able to communicate with them on Teamspeak in a matter of seconds he didn’t bother to check what they said.

“Hey guys!” he said into his mic, pulling his headphones over his ears.

“About time,” Sapnap replied immediately.

“Wow, rude. What happened to hello? How are you?” George tried to mimic a Tik tok sound because he knew that Dream and Sapnap were addicted to Tik tok and he wanted to make them laugh. Sapnap chuckled. Dream, however, was silent. _That’s odd…_ George thought. _He’s usually the first one to laugh at dumb things._

“Now that slow-poke Georgie is here, can we start recording? This is gonna take a few hours and I have school tomorrow.”

Finally, Dream spoke. “Yeah we can go ahead and get started. Log into the server.”

George couldn’t help but notice that Dream’s voice sounded a bit rougher than usual, almost as if he had a cold or something. But it was the end of summer in Florida, definitely not flu season. Maybe his mic was being weird. George decided that he needed to let it go. His extreme attention to detail when it came to Dream was something that bothered him, and he didn’t want to make it super obvious. He logged into the server without comment.

“Alright, are we ready to start recording? George, you have the plug in ready to go, right?”

“Yeah, it’s all ready to go.”

“Okay, let me record my intro real quick.” George spaced out as Dream ran through his classic intro: introducing the video and mentioning the viewer to subscriber gap. The idea for this video had actually come from a comment on a previous Youtube video posted to George’s channel: Minecraft, But Every Time You Break a Block You Take Damage. It was a concept that would make things difficult, but not impossible. Dream had offered to do all of the coding for it, so George supposed he ought to be paying attention to the rules Dream was currently outlining. Instead he just clicked around a few times and hit Sapnap for fun.

He snapped back to attention promptly when he heard Dream say his name. “George, go ahead and run the command.” With a few clicks of a button, the plug-in took affect and they were off.

“We’re gonna have to find food super quickly,” Sapnap commented. “It’s the best way to heal from the damage of gathering our supplies.” He dashed behind George and hit him in revenge, causing the British boy to let out a squeal of protest.

George chased Sapnap for a few blocks. “We should also just find a ravine or a big cave to mine iron so we break as few blocks as possible.” There was silence. “Dream?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, a cave would be good,” Dream finally responded. George turned and saw Dream following them. _Interesting, he’s usually in front charging ahead and stealing all of our blocks_. He didn’t know if he should say anything. He wondered if Sapnap noticed. However, Sapnap was several hundred blocks ahead from him now killing some pigs so he was no help. Conflicted, George turned back to the task at hand.

##

Sapnap noticed, but he didn’t really comment on it. There were so many reasons for Dream to be quieter. He could be in a bad mood, tired, etc. Sapnap had seen it all before. Usually Dream perked up further into the video. Sapnap just hoped he would get a little more into the video soon, otherwise the footage wouldn’t be great and he honestly didn’t have time to re-record anything soon.

Sapnap noticed with Dream’s energy seemingly low, George’s lowered as well. He didn’t protest nearly as much or even give chase when Sapnap hit him earlier. Usually that sort of thing would end in Sapnap and George chasing each other with Dream hot on their trail spewing threats at them both. Sapnap knew that he was one of Dream’s best friends, and he also knew that Dream had a very different type of close friendship with George. It was interesting watching it play out, but mildly infuriating sometimes.

Like today, for example. Dream wasn’t acting like himself, so George wasn’t acting like himself, so Sapnap would have to over-exaggerate his personality and become bigger and louder and funnier to carry all three of them. He started spewing as many jokes as possible, making digs and even making some ‘stupid moves’ and taking damage from mining blocks just so the others could make fun of him.

“Here George, I brought you a flower!” He dropped a cornflower at George’s feet. He waited for the comment from Dream, the snark and sarcastic jabs about how only Dream could give George flowers. Nothing.

“Did you seriously just take damage breaking that flower for me? I don’t even want it, take this iron pick and go do something useful,” George said with a bit of a laugh, tossing a pick towards Sapnap.

“Georgieeee, I go through so much for you and you don’t even care.”

“I didn’t ask you to, so it’s not like I’m obligated to care.”

“Dream, George is being mean to me and rejecting my flower!”

“No, Dream, Sapnap is forcing the flower upon me when I don’t even want it. Look, he’s wasting all our food healing from the damage of getting the flowers.”

“ _Our_ food? I killed like all of those pigs.”

Sapnap was happy that the lighthearted banter between him and George was going as normal and that George was perking up. However, Dream hadn’t butted in yet and that was very surprising. He expected Dream to instantly attack him for the flower thing, but now a good few minutes had passed without a comment.

“I’m coming back to where you are, I found some diamonds.” Finally, Sapnap heard Dream’s voice in his headset.

“Dude – you found _diamonds_???? Where?” Sapnap had been so busy teasing George that he hadn’t even noticed the little achievement in the corner of his screen. This ravine must have led to caves a lot deeper than he thought. 

“I don’t know, over in that other part of the cave. They were – ah FUCK.” There was a thwapping noise and suddenly a little line of text appeared in the bottom left of Sapnap’s monitor.

_Dream fell from a high place_

“Did you just die? We’re barely into the game! What a noob!” Sapnap started laughing, George’s high-pitched giggle joining in.

“I was distracted, okay? Shut up,” Dream muttered. Sapnap stopped laughing when he heard the bitterness in Dream’s tone. Usually it was playful, but today Dream sounded nothing but sharp and prickly.

Sapnap debated saying something. He settled on a quick, “sorry dude” and went back to moving raw and cooked food around in the furnaces. A few more minutes went past as George and Sapnap smelted and crafted some things to take to the Nether. “Hey are you even coming back here?” Sapnap asked Dream.

“No, I went to go find a lava pool. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No, you didn’t tell us anything Dream. Don’t you want your stuff back?” George asked. Dream just scoffed and mumbled something. “Dream? Should I go get your stuff?”

“Do whatever you want George, I don’t care,” Dream snapped.

“Hey!” Sapnap cut in. “He’s just trying to help Dream, cut it out. That’s so rude, honestly.”

“It’s fine!” George quickly added, forcing a small chuckle. He was clearly trying to defuse the situation. “I’ll just get his stuff; the diamonds are there.”

“Just leave it, I already found a lava pool. You guys are wasting so much time, just get up here and we can go to the nether.”

Sapnap was getting really frustrated. He finally snapped and decided to say something. “Dude, you’ve had an attitude this whole video. Do we need to stop recording so you can get your shit together? I have midterms and essays due this week. I don’t want to waste my time recording something you can’t even post because you’re being a jerk.”

“What? I’m not being rude, you’re just being over-sensitive,” Dream replied, sounding extremely defensive. “Whatever, if you’re so busy then just hurry up and help me finish the game already and you can go.”

“I’m not going to finish the game if you’re gonna be like the whole time,” Sapnap protested. “It’s not any fun. You can’t take your issues out on us.”

“I don’t have _issues_!” Dream’s tone sounded dangerously cold. “You’re just being ridiculous.”

George piped up timidly. “I got the diamonds… should I make a diamond sword?” They both completely ignored him.

“You’re not acting like yourself. If something is going on we need to stop recording and work it out, and if it’s not then you need to get over yourself.”

“Nothing is going on!” Dream insisted. “George isn’t complaining. If you’re so bothered maybe you should leave and George and I will record the entire video by ourselves.”

“Okay fine, I will.” With a few decisive clicks of a button, Sapnap had logged out of the Minecraft server, left Teamspeak, and shut down his equipment that was recording his POV in case they needed it. Dream had severely dampened his mood. He felt bad for George though. He grabbed his phone and shot George a quick text.

 **Nickotine to Gogy:** sorry to ditch. try to get dream to stop recording or just leave. Idk what’s going on with him but he’s being rude and wasting your time.

Satisfied, Nick tossed his phone onto his bed and angrily flopped down next to it. Maybe he would take a nap and do some homework later. Dream had honestly ruined what he thought was going to be a fun night and now he was pretty ticked off. Whatever. He hoped George was dealing with the situation.

##

George had no clue what to do when Sapnap left. Dream was completely silent, and George hurriedly started breaking the furnaces so he could rush to Dream’s lava pool before he got upset again. He heard his phone buzz and saw it light up out of the corner of his eye. It was a text from Nick, telling him to stop recording with Dream. George was mentally freaking out. He wanted to keep recording, he loved making Minecraft videos with Dream. But on the other hand, he really wasn’t having fun and he felt very tense.

 _Should I say something? Will he get mad at me if I say something? I don’t think I could handle him being mad at me…_ George’s mind was racing a mile a minute as he snaked his way back through the cave and up to the surface. It took forever but if he mined straight up and broke all those blocks he’d just die.

“George?” Dream’s voice was quiet in his earphones, sounded less harsh and more remorseful.

“Yeah?”

“I think Sapnap was right, we should probably just stop recording. I’m just tired and it’s not going to be a good video. I’m sorry for being rude.”

Dream apologizing? That was not something that happened often. Not that Dream ever did much that needed to be apologized for, but he was definitely stubborn and didn’t like admitting when he was wrong. The whole Dream Team shared that trait. “Yeah that’s fine. You sound a little tired. I don’t really have much planned for the upcoming week or two unless I come up with good ideas, so we can record it later if you want.”

He heard Dream inhale shakily. Wait, shakily? “I think that would be best.” Both boys logged out of the server but stayed connected on voice chat in Teamspeak. George was even more concerned now. “I gotta go George. Sleep, and, uh, stuff. Cuz I’m tired.” His voice kind of hitched on some of the words.

George was sitting helpless in his desk chair, not knowing what to do. It literally sounded like Dream was about to cry. Was it just the mic again? Would Dream get mad at George like he got mad at Sapnap if he asked? Would he push George away? George arrived to the conclusion that he should let Dream sleep and then approach him on his own terms if he wanted to talk. “Alright Dream, have a good nap.”

“Thanks,” Dream muttered. Clattering noises came from Dream’s side of the call, like things being moved across a desk. George heard the squeaky sound of Dream’s chair being rolled backwards. “I’ll call you when I wake up. I, uh – I gotta go, I don’t – goodby-ARGH.” George heard a muffled cry and then a large _thump_ and then silence. He literally bolted upright his chair.

“Dream? Dream? DREAM? Dream are you okay? What’s going on? Did you knock something over? Dream? Clay? Clay, can you hear me?” George repeated his friend’s name over and over, hoping for a response. Dream’s Teamspeak was still on and active. Maybe he knocked something over and forgot to turn it off? And was safely in bed? He fumbled for his phone.

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Clay? You all good?

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Plz text me if you’re good. You left Teamspeak open lol

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Clay?

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : -Incoming Call-

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : -Incoming Call-

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : -Incoming Call-

After ten minutes, George still hadn’t received a response, and he was getting more and more upset. He kept trying to tell himself that Dream was fine. He just knocked something over, he left his computer running, and he was just tired. It all felt very not true though. Dream didn’t sound alright, and he had definitely made a noise that sounded a lot like pain. George didn’t know what to do. He was stuck all the way across the ocean with no way to check on his friend. This is when he desperately wished he was a normal person who had friends that lived nearby.

George opened his phone again, but instead of calling Clay a fourth time he dialed Nick instead. The younger man picked up almost immediately, sounding irritated. “Yeah George? Is Dream being a butthead still?”

George was honestly so embarrassed that the first thing that came out of his mouth sounded a lot like a whimper. “George, are you okay?” Nick asked. “Did he say something super mean? I’ll literally kill him. Like in real life.”

“No, I think something is wrong! After you left he apologized and we stopped recording and he went to say goodbye and I heard a loud banging noise and he like yelled in pain and then everything went quiet. He’s still actively voice calling in Teamspeak and I texted and called him a bunch and he isn’t responding or picking up!” George blurted out. “I don’t know what happened, I’m really really worried about him.”

“Woah woah woah, what??? Slow down, you think he like fell and hurt himself or something? And he isn’t responding to calls?”

“Yes! And someone needs to check on him. Can you check on him? Texas and Florida aren’t that far apart, right? I don’t know how many states that is but states aren’t that big right?”

“Holy shit George, calm down. First of all, Dream is literally like fourteen hours away from me by car. Second of all, I have a ton of exams and essays. I can’t go anywhere. Look, I’m sure he’s fine. Give it like five or six hours and if he doesn’t wake up and respond then you can start panicking, okay? We can figure it out from there. Are you _crying_?”

George sniffled. “No. You’re right, we can wait a few hours. He’s probably just asleep. He’ll wake up soon and call me back. It’s all good.” 

“Alright, if you’re sure. Let me know if he doesn’t respond in a few hours, okay?”

“Okay, I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from him!” George and Nick exchanged their goodbyes and George was left staring at the empty blackness of his dark phone screen. He was being so high-strung and overly-worried, he knew that. Clay was an adult, he could take care of himself. Still, something felt off.

George pulled up the website of an airline he had used a few times before and typed “Orlando, Florida” into the destination bar. Obviously it would be stupid to fly across the ocean because of minor concern for your best friend, right? Of course. But it wouldn’t hurt to just look at his options. George fell asleep with his head on his desk, the unpurchased plane tickets to Florida still open on his computer screen.


	2. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream isn't doing his best. He has such an amazing life, but sometimes the downsides of his type of career can become too much. He keeps going though, swimming and then treading water and then floating until he can't anymore. He feels like he's drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: skipping meals (starvation, E.D.), nightmares, fainting/passing out

Dream felt awful.

Mentally, physically, emotionally. Everything felt jumbled and clouded and it hurt.

He knew why of course; this wasn’t a new feeling. It wasn’t like he could be surprised at any of this. Like he could pretend he didn’t cause it. He wished he could blame all of his problems on outside sources so he didn’t have to own up to the fact that he was the only thing making him miserable.

Dream honestly had a pretty amazing life. He was twenty-one, already moved out and living in his own house. He had skipped college and gone straight into a career and ended up playing video games with his best friends for money. A very decent chunk of money, at that. And speaking of his friends, they were always wonderful and supporting and they made him stay up till 3am laughing his guts out every other night.

So why did he still have days where the emptiness consumed him? Where the pressure of his “easy” YouTube job became too much and despite being on a voice call with Nick or George or even Bad almost 24/7 he still felt a crushing loneliness, and despite having all of the money and expensive gaming equipment a young man could want he felt a sense of loss, of something missing. He was so successful, yet he felt like a failure. So many people adored him, so obviously he was a likeable person. So why couldn’t he like himself?

He didn’t say anything to George or Nick. He wasn’t even sure he had anything to say. It all sounded so stupid if you said it out loud. It sounded like he was complaining, or like he was ungrateful for all of the blessings in his life. He also didn’t want it to sound like they weren’t enough for him. George and Nick meant everything to him. His close friends who lived so unbearably far away. The voice calls helped. He even Facetimed Nick occasionally.

He didn’t know why he had never offered to Facetime George. Or even Skype him or something. One of his closest friends had never even once seen his face, except for a picture of him as a four-year-old in a costume. Most people would consider that insanely weird, but for George and Clay it was just normal. Natural.

Refusing to show George his face had started out as a joke, a way to tease him. He was planning on showing his face to George at some point and had been waiting for the right time. A prize for winning a Minecraft challenge? A perfect meme opportunity? He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he felt like he would know when the time came.

That playfulness had morphed into something else entirely, something dangerously irrational. Clay was struggling a lot, and one of the things he held on to was thinking about how happy George would be to finally see his face. That was something that helped get him through some of those bad days. He knew that he had something worth staying for… that even if his personality drove all his friends away, they’d stick around to see his face. His excitement eventually turned into a sick sort of dread. What if it wasn’t everything he hoped it to be? What if George wasn’t all smiley and blushing and happy? What if he was disappointed?

Clay didn’t know when this all started. Being an online entertainer is always rough. You have a large and adoring audience, but you also have to deal with a tough crowd sometimes and even haters. Hate comments were easy to ignore at first, he was young and excited and confident and he was having a blast doing things he enjoyed and slowly gaining success. It was only when his success became so solid that he should never have to worry about what a small minority of people thought of him that he started to worry a lot.

Plenty of comments rolled in. People saying that he was too cocky, that he was arrogant, that he was rude to his friends, that he was creepy as a Hunter, that it was boring when he won all the time and that he should let his friends win more. People commenting that he wasn’t funny, that they didn’t get the hype over his rapidly growing channel, that he cheated on speedruns, that his videos were unoriginal and his coding was easy and boring. He had even received death threats.

Of course, hate comments weren’t the only things he had to deal with. He also had the far opposite end of the spectrum. He had plenty of loving and respectful fans and he appreciated each and every one of them so much. However, there were some toxic fans too and the comments scared him. People constantly threatening to find out his identify, people who wanted to rip every single personal piece of information and shove it into the spotlight. He wished they would stop. There were parts of his life that he wanted to keep to himself. He didn’t expect to find all the fame that he did. He didn’t live a normal life, and sometimes he wanted it to be more normal.

He honestly handled everything pretty well for a very long time. He talked to his friends about some of the issues. He had bad days, but so did everyone, and he got through them. He kept going, kept doing the things that made him happy. His highs and lows came and went, and it didn’t affect the quality of his lifestyle too much.

Until recently.

The nightmares were honestly what started it. Every single night, unrelenting images of his identity being exposed to the world, his face plastered all over the internet, George’s disappointment, and his channel failing horribly were played over and over in his head. Often these simple tropes were twisted in his subconscious mind into much darker things. Blood and falling were two common themes.

Clay started avoiding sleep. It wasn’t hard, his sleep schedule was already atrocious. The time differences between himself and George and the late hours spent editing or coding to meet deadlines led to a pretty irregular sleeping pattern. That’s part of the reason he hid it from his friends so well. No one questioned why he was awake at 3am, because they assumed he’d be napping later. No one could see the dark circles underneath his eyes.

He drank ungodly amounts of caffeine to stay awake. He busied himself in work, offering to code and edit everything he could to have a reason to stay awake and keep his brain busy. Late nights and early mornings spent editing led to skipped meals. Again, not that skipped meals were uncommon for him. Never on this level though. At one point he was pretty sure he went like a day and a half without eating anything. He learned to ignore the raw pang of hunger and the coffee (he didn’t even like coffee!) and energy drinks helped him to feel a false sense of fullness for awhile anyway.

Honestly, by the time he realized how badly he had been drowning, he didn’t know how to come up for air anymore. His brain and body were physically shutting him down from lack of sleep and nutrients. He felt sick and drained. He spent so much of any remaining energy he had hiding it from the people around him. He couldn’t disappoint them. He didn’t want to be a failure.

Comments noticing his behavior started rolling in. There were very few of them, but they were there. That made it worse. He pushed extra hard for the last few recent videos, being as cheerful and funny as he could possibly be. The comments went away. He was Dream! He was confident, cheeky, charming, impossibly clever and extremely bold. He didn’t feel like that in real life, though. He felt insecure, and dumb, and afraid. He didn’t want anyone to know that the real thing didn’t match the mask.

Deep down, he knew that he had hit a breaking point when he sat down to film the Minecraft: But Every Time We Break a Block We Take Damage Video. He had offered to code the whole thing so he could stay busy and avoid sleeping. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide everything anymore, but he had to try anyway.

He kept up a decent façade at first. His intro was familiar and easy to reel off, and even if he hung back and stayed a little quieter it shouldn’t be too noticeable. He had the power of editing on his side too, so he could cut out long silences. He paused for a moment to rub his temples with his fingers. His head hurt. To be honest, his entire body ached. He felt like throwing up but he knew there was nothing in his stomach.

The video continued and he contributed very little. He made a pickaxe and left to mine, in an attempt to stay away from the others. Their loud voices and cheery banter usually made him laugh to the point where he was wheezing, but today he wanted them to shut up. He wanted everything to go away.

He could hear them vaguely arguing about something. He mined a few diamonds and didn’t even make an excited comment. His vision blurred a bit as he turned to head back to George and Sapnap. He snapped back to reality when he heard his name.

“Dream, George is being mean to me and rejecting my flower!”

“No, Dream, Sapnap is forcing the flower upon me when I don’t even want it. Look, he’s wasting all our food healing from the damage of getting the flowers.”

“ _Our_ food? I killed like all of those pigs.”

He had no idea what was going on. He had to respond though. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. 

“I’m coming back to where you are, I found some diamonds,” he managed to choke out.

“Dude – you found _diamonds_???? Where?” Sapnap was excited, obviously. His voice was ringing in Dream’s ears.

“I don’t know, over in that other part of the cave.” He started towering up, and then hopping from one block to another. All of the sudden, his vision blurred violently. He missed the next block by a mile. “They were – ah FUCK.”

_Dream fell from a high place_

He stared at the respawn screen, barely able to process it.

“Did you just die? We’re barely into the game! What a noob!” Sapnap started laughing, George’s high-pitched giggle joining in.

“I was distracted, okay? Shut up,” Dream muttered. He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He just wanted them to leave him alone. He wanted everything to go back to normal. They needed to leave him alone so he could finish recording the video and spend all night editing instead of sleeping. He decided to go find a lava pool so that they could build a portal as soon as possible.

“Hey are you even coming back here?” Sapnap asked.

“No, I went to go find a lava pool. Didn’t I tell you?” He could have sworn he said that. Maybe he just thought it? Everything was jumbled.

“No, you didn’t tell us anything Dream. Don’t you want your stuff back?” George asked. Dream mumbled something to George. He just wanted this to be over. “Dream? Should I go get your stuff?”

“Do whatever you want George, I don’t care,” Dream snapped. Again, he immediately regretted it. His emotions were swirling around in a jumbled, exhausted mess and the anger came so naturally.

“Hey!” Sapnap piped up. “He’s just trying to help Dream, cut it out. That’s so rude, honestly.”

“It’s fine!” George quickly added, forcing a small chuckle. “I’ll just get his stuff, the diamonds are there.” Dream was hit with another pang of remorse. George wasn’t even mad at him like Sapnap was. Why was he so nice? How much would it take for him to finally leave?

“Just leave it, I already found a lava pool. You guys are wasting so much time, just get up here and we can go to the Nether.” He hated the words that were leaving his mouth, but he couldn’t really stop them. Apparently, Sapnap hated them too.

“Dude, you’ve had an attitude this whole video. Do we need to stop recording so you can get your shit together? I have midterms and essays due this week. I don’t want to waste my time recording something you can’t even post because you’re being a jerk.”

“What? I’m not being rude, you’re just being over-sensitive,” Dream replied, just trying desperately to get Sapnap off his case. He couldn’t have Sapnap mad at him. He couldn’t have Sapnap hate him. He needed Sapnap. “Whatever, if you’re so busy then just hurry up and help me finish the game already and you can go.”

“I’m not going to finish the game if you’re gonna be like the whole time,” Sapnap protested. “It’s not any fun. You can’t take your issues out on us.”

“I don’t have _issues_!” Dream’s tone sounded dangerously cold. “You’re just being ridiculous.” _Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask_. He did have issues. A lot of issues. He didn’t want them to know. They couldn’t know. He vaguely heard George’s voice in the background as his vision blurred again, but he ignored it.

“You’re not acting like yourself. If something is going on we need to stop recording and work it out, and if it’s not then you need to get over yourself,” Sapnap said.

_Please no, please just drop it_. “Nothing is going on!” Dream insisted. “George isn’t complaining. If you’re so bothered maybe you should leave and George and I will record the entire video by ourselves.” _Sapnap hates me. Sapnap hates me. George doesn’t hate me? George is all I have left._

“Okay fine, I will.” And just like that, Sapnap was gone. And Dream was dangerously close to falling apart completely. _He hates me, he hates me, he hates me._ His ears were ringing even louder.

_I have to get it together, I can’t lose George too_ , he realized. “George?” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I think Sapnap was right, we should probably just stop recording. I’m just tired and it’s not going to be a good video. I’m sorry for being rude.” He did the best he could to control his voice. Steady and even, everything is fine.

“Yeah that’s fine. You sound a little tired. I don’t really have much planned for the upcoming week or two unless I come up with good ideas, so we can record it later if you want.” Dream felt a surge of relief. George was still his friend. George didn’t hate him yet. He took a breath and prepared to speak again. He didn’t realize it would be so shaky.

“I think that would be best.” He logged out of the server and stayed connected on voice chat in Teamspeak. He needed to leave. “I gotta go George. Sleep, and, uh, stuff. Cuz I’m tired.” He knew his voice was catching and cracking. He knew he was unraveling, falling apart. He needed to end the call now, before it got worse. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, whether from fear or frustration or sadness he didn’t know. He waited with bated for George to respond.

“Alright Dream, have a good nap.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. He reached for his mouse to close out Teamspeak, and accidentally knocked it to the floor. About to break down sobbing and desperately wanting the voice call to end before that happened, he abruptly pushed back his chair and stood up to retrieve the mouse. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the room started spinning. This wasn’t good. He grabbed blindly at his mouse and tried to close out the app.

“I’ll call you when I wake up. I, uh – I gotta go, I don’t – goodby-ARGH.” The dizziness finally took hold as he tried to choke his final farewell out. His body finally had enough. There was literally no way to function on the lack of sleep and food. The world spun faster and faster around him. He stumbled away from his desk and towards his bed but didn’t make it in time. He yelped as his head made contact with the floor, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Just wanted to let you know to expect regular and timely updates from me. I already have the story planned out and four more chapters typed up and edited. I'll be releasing them either every day or every few days!


	3. Impromptu Plans and Worried Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George hears some more concerning noises from Dream's side of the still-active Teamspeak call. He makes a hasty and panicked decision in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YA'LL I HAD LIKE SIX CHAPTERS/13,000+ WORDS TYPED UP FOR THIS AND MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND LOST ALL OF IT! It took me over 24 hours and tactics from every single website and YouTube tutorial I could find but I managed to recover it. That's why this chapter is a little late, sorry about that! 
> 
> TW: I don't think there are any? Let me know if you think otherwise and I'll change it accordingly.

George put the last dish in his cupboard before shutting his dishwasher and leaning against the counter. His whole flat was probably cleaner than it had ever been before. After Sapnap had told him to wait for a few hours for Dream to wake up and everything to be fine, he had still been unable to focus. Staring at the lines of code had driven him crazy. He popped into Quackity’s stream on the SMP for a bit before leaving that too, unable to relax and have fun with his friend. So he started stress-cleaning his entire house.

It had been five hours. George didn’t even know what else he could possibly do. He re-arranged his entire closet, dusted every surface, and even moved his huge pile of cardboard boxes out of his room. He propped his elbows up on the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. Clay was fine. He’d have to be.

Still, the cry of pain he had heard disturbed him.

He made his way back to his bedroom and double checked his Teamspeak. Dream was still active. He hadn’t called George back or answered any of his texts yet. George decided to send one last text.

 **Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Hey, could you please call me when you wake up? If you’re sleeping? I’m getting worried.

He stared at his phone, willing those three little dots to pop up to show that Clay was typing a response. Nothing. He sighed and tossed his phone on his desk, wincing at the harsh sound it made. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to break his phone. He propped his head in his hands again and stared at the little green dot that showed that Dream was active. His flat was deadly quiet. Sometimes he wished he lived in a noisier part of the city, although he knew that it would make streaming inconvenient.

The silence was deafening. He wasn’t used to sitting in silence. Usually when he was bored and doing nothing or he had a silent and repetitive task, he had Dream’s voice in his headset to keep him company. Goodness, he missed that tea kettle wheeze.

_Am I being too over-dramatic? Maybe the fact that I’m this upset and worried is creepy. But he’s my best friend! He’s Sapnap’s best friend too though, and Sapnap didn’t seem as concerned. Maybe Sap knows something I don’t? Maybe Dream doesn’t tell me things…. Maybe he doesn’t see me as close of a friend as I see him…_

George KNEW he was over-thinking this. He had a tendency to over-think things, but he didn’t really talk about it much. It got him into trouble sometimes. For example, the vlog. It had been a stupid, spur-of-the-moment idea. It was super fun to record, too. Then he got home and all of the sudden the anxiety of _Is this a good idea? Will they figure out it was a prank? Will they be mad when they figure it out? What if I can’t edit in Dream’s voice-over well enough and they figure it out and it’s all my fault and Dream is mad at me? What if Wilbur gets dragged down too_?

He had spiraled to the point where he was frozen by the fear. He didn’t even want to go over the footage, much less edit it. He certainly didn’t want to post it anymore. But then his fans were mad at him for not posting it, and that brought on a whole new set of concerns. In the end, Dream had taken care of the situation for him. He hadn’t even told Clay that he was upset about it. He just knew. Because Clay knew George like that. George may bury his problems and suppress his emotions and have a difficult time expressing his feelings, but Clay always saw right through him.

He smiled a bit, thinking of how he had woken up to an explosion on Twitter. How he had dialed Clay’s number immediately, not even waiting to get out of bed and open his Teamspeak. He remembered quickly feeling remorse as Clay answered sounding groggy and confused and then he realized that it was since it was 9am for him it was 4am for Clay. “What did you DO?” he had demanded. He started to sputter out words until Clay had hushed him.

“George, you were obviously worried about it. I know how you get, even if you won’t ever say it. I just fixed it for you. They’re not even mad, they’re fawning over pictures of Patches. Be grateful and let me go the fuck to sleep.”

He was broken out of his pleasant memory by a noise coming from the other end of the still active Teamspeak call. His hands scrambled for his mouse and he waved it to refresh his desktop. “Dream? Clay?” He held his breath.

He heard a soft groan in response, followed by some mumbles.

“Clay? I can’t understand you.” George noticed his accent always became more prominent when he was upset or concerned, but never mind that for right now.

A few rustling noises came from Dream’s side of the call, followed by a soft, “George.”

“Dream!!!”

George was so happy to receive some sign of life from his friend. His happiness was replaced with concern when he heard Dream’s next few words, all mumbled and jumbled together so much that George would never have been able to pick them out if he wasn’t used to listening to Dream ramble.

“George…. Please… make it stop…. George, help, Sapnap, George, no…… no, NO, NO, NO. St-stop. George, ple-don’t leave me…….stop…… help me…” his final words were cut off in a whimper, and then there was silence.

“Dream? DREAM? Clay? Are you okay? What’s going on? Clay please!” The questions were rapid-fire, and George had to remind himself to pause and listen for a response. There was nothing. Oh how he wished Clay used a face-cam with him so he could see what was going on.

“If this is a joke, it isn’t funny!” Tears began to well up in his eyes a little bit, but he forced them back by habit. George never cried. “Clay please!” he begged again. Still nothing.

Finally, George snapped. It was decided. This was his best friend. The travel ban had just been lifted a few days ago, and they were planning on meeting up at some point anyway. Who cared if he sped up the process a bit? Like he told Dream earlier, he had no plans for at least two to three weeks that he knew of. Why not throw all caution to the wind? What was the worse that could happen?

Ideally, he would fly down. Dream would be fine, this was all a misunderstanding, and they would finally get to spend some time together in person. He would finally see his best friend’s face, they would play Minecraft together in the same room, Dream could take him to the beaches he always bragged about, and they’d have a happy little week or so.

Or, he could show up and Dream could be fine and it would all be a misunderstanding, but he could be upset with George for coming. He could send George packing on the next flight back to the UK. But George doubted that would ever happen, Dream would be so happy to see him. This possibility was a stupid one for his brain to suggest.

Or, something could be wrong. If something was wrong with Dream, that just opened up a whole infinite realm of other situations and possibilities. The thought of it overwhelmed George, so he decided that he could let his anxiety consume him on his 9 hour flight instead of right now. Right now he needed to book a plane ticket.

Since the ban had only been lifted for a few days and people were still hesitant to travel, he managed to find a flight for the next day. Which was honestly such a huge stroke of luck that he almost couldn’t believe it. He booked the flight without hesitation and then he called his mum and asked her if he could leave Dog and Cat with her for awhile. She asked him a bunch of questions, obviously. Asking if it was safe to travel, asking why this was so sudden, asking when he’d be back. George tried to wave off her questions and dodge her concern, but it was hard.

His mum left the call dissatisfied by his vague answers, but relenting. He was 24 years old and was using his own money, and he could take care of himself. She still worried though. It’s a classic stereotype that British people aren’t really emotional, and it’s kind of true. It’s not like they didn’t welcome emotion, they just weren’t necessarily as gushy and open as George had described some of his American friends. George had taken after his father, a little more reserved when it came to expressing how he felt. The fact that he had sounded blatantly upset over the phone concerned her.

Oh well, at least she got to play and cuddle with her son’s VERY adorable animals while he was gone. For an undisclosed amount of time, too. Because George had reluctantly admitted to her that he hadn’t booked a flight back.

Her baby boy would be stepping on a plane to a country all the way across the world, which he had never been to, to visit a friend who didn’t know he was coming, with a one-way ticket in his hand. George was not spontaneous. This Minecraft friend of his must really be something special.

##

“You did WHAT?” Sapnap asked in disbelief. George huffed from across the room, where he was folding some t-shirts and tossing them into a carry-on suitcase.

“I booked a flight,” George repeated. “I’m flying to Orlando.”

“Is Dream okay? Have you talked to him?” Sapnap asked immediately. “He hasn’t responded to any of my texts or calls, I’m getting really worried!”

George inhaled sharply. “Well, I was on Teamspeak, and I heard some shuffling sounds from his side, and then he said my name….”

“Okay? And? That’s it?”

“Not exactly… He started mumbling and I heard some weird noises of like... moving around? It kind of sounded like he was asleep maybe? I’ve never really heard him sleep talk before on our sleepover calls. He was saying my name. He said your name too. He kept muttering help, and stop, and no… I don’t even know what to think. I think it may have been a nightmare? Or maybe he hurt himself or hit his head and he’s delirious?”

“Holy shit,” Nick responded. “That’s not good. I’m glad you heard it though. You’re getting to Orlando tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” George responded. It almost didn’t feel real.

“Should I come too?” Nick asked. “I’m really worried, that definitely sounds like something is wrong. I’ve known Clay for awhile and never has anything like this happened. I’m sorry you had to hear that…. Anyway mid-terms aren’t that important right? I can just take make-up exams! My classmates can take notes for me….”

“Sap, it’ll be okay. School is important, Dream would understand. Your really can’t miss every single on of your midterms. I’ll be with him tomorrow. I’ll call or facetime you immediately, I promise!”

A loud bang came from Sapnap’s end of the call as he slammed his fist down on the table. “Dammit! I feel so fucking useless!”

George winced. He felt bad for Nick. He knew Nick would fly out first thing with no questions asked as well. He knew that Nick sometimes suffered because he was enrolled in college full-time and had nowhere near the free time in his schedule that George (graduated) and Dream (lol what’s college) did. They always did their best to accommodate him. Still, George knew that Sapnap was just as worried, if not more so, as he was. Thank goodness George had a clear schedule. He couldn’t imagine being feeling that trapped and hopeless.

Nick let out a long sigh. “Do you want me to stay on call with you while you pack? And maybe sleep?”

“Yes please,” George responded. It should never be confused that George prioritized Dream or was closer with him. It just wasn’t true. All three boys were equally close, just in slightly different ways. Nick and George had sleep-calls far more often than either of them did with Clay. Not for any particular reason. Again, some aspects of each of the friendships in the trio were different just because of who they were and how they vibed and their circumstances. That’s the way the cookie crumbled.

“Alrighty, I’m working on an essay so I might not be very talkative but I’m here,” Sapnap said. George nodded, even though he knew Nick couldn’t see him.

“Thanks Sappy Nappy.”

The silence resumed. George could hear the clickety-clacking sound of Nick’s keyboard as he typed his essay along with the occasional sniffle. George smiled a bit. He continued packing, tossing all of the t-shirts and shorts into his carry-on. He knew it would be hot in Florida. He tossed in a pair of jeans just in case, as well as some sweatpants which would double as pajamas. He had to leave and go to the bathroom to grab his toiletries, and when he came back Nick was humming lightly. George smiled ever so slightly again.

A few hours later, he had finished packing, eaten dinner, checked Twitter, and was sliding under the covers. Nick was still on call with him, and the two had talked occasionally throughout the evening. George was actually pretty nervous about the plane ride, and he and Nick had been building him a Spotify playlist of songs that were calming but had a good vibe to them. He downloaded the playlist so he could listen when he was thousands of feet in the air.

“Night Sappitus.”

“Night Georgie.”

George stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Tomorrow, he’d be flying to America.

Tomorrow, he’d be seeing his best friend’s face for the first time.

Tomorrow.

But tomorrow couldn’t come until today had passed, and George finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Next chapter is gonna be a doozy. I'm going to have to change the Archive Warnings on this fic from "No Warnings Apply" to "Graphic Displays of Violence". But I promise that it's only for that one chapter and you can easily skip over it if it bothers you (I'll summarize what happens) and all of the violence will be within a nightmare. Trigger warnings will be provided. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment with anything you liked or any constructive criticism! Next chapter will be up either tomorrow or the day after! :)


	4. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream has a nightmare while unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the warnings from No Warnings Apply to Graphic Displays of Violence for this chapter! If you want to skip it, I summarized what happens vaguely in the notes at the end. All violence occurs within a nightmare, by the way.
> 
> TW: Blood, gore, knives, sharp weapons, falling, broken bones, murder, unintentional self-harm, major character injury, major character death.
> 
> I think I covered all the bases. If I need to add more please let me know.

He was in a forest.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here, or where he had been before coming here. Had he come here? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember a beginning, or a starting point. He was just here. He couldn’t think of an end point either. A goal. A plan. Why didn’t he have a plan? He always had a plan.

Where was he?

Dream reached up to wipe the sweat off of his face, only to have his hand hit hard porcelain. Oh. He felt around a bit more, realizing he was wearing a round disc on his face. His mask. He didn’t have to take it off to know that there were two black eyeholes and a black smiley face. He didn’t know why he knew that though. He felt like he knew where he was.

But he had no idea where he was.

He wandered through the trees. The foliage was so thick that very little sunlight came through. It made it difficult to see. _Mobs will spawn_ he thought. Mobs? He looked around. It was like he was in Minecraft, but he wasn’t. Nothing was made out of blocks. He wasn’t a neon green blocky character. It was just him. Normal, human Dream. Seeing the Minecraft features without the square aspect was very unsettling. Surreal. It felt wrong.

_Dark oak forest. This is a dark oak forest!_ he realized. He kept moving forward, suddenly aware of the backpack he was carrying and the shiny axe in his right hand. He noticed the axe was covered in blood. Why was it covered in blood?

He didn’t have to look at his mask to know that blood was splattered there too.

But why did he know that?

He shifted his backpack nervously and broke out into a light jog. Where was he going? There was no end to the dark trees and the branches. No light to head towards. No markings to follow. Why was he headed this way again? And why did it feel like there was some sense of urgency to it? Like he needed to keep going?

“Oh Dreeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!”

Oh.

That was why. He understood now.

That was George. This was Manhunt.

He took off running, ducking and weaving through the trees as quickly as he could. The branches thrashed against his face and for once he was grateful to be wearing a mask that he knew he could not physically take off. Not here. Although his face was protected, the branches and thorns left little scratches and cuts all up and down his exposed arms. He forced himself to keep going. Logically, he knew he would travel a lot faster and more safely on top of the trees than underneath them, but realistically he knew that as the pounding of many sets of feet behind him grew closer, he would not have time for the initial climb up there.

“He’s right here!” He heard Sapnap call. Willing himself to go faster, he rushed towards what he thought looked like a tiny speck of light. _Please be the end of the forest, please be the end of the forest._ He could hear the crunch of footsteps on the decaying leaves behind him. He realized that his pursuers were not being held back by the branches and thorns in their way, because Dream was plowing a path through the forest for them. _Fuck_.

Dream’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. Still, he couldn’t stop. No matter how sore his legs got, no matter how much his lungs ached, he had to keep going. He had to escape.

This nightmare was not unfamiliar. He knew what was going to happen when they caught him. He knew what they would do to him.

Then again, he also knew that no matter how many times he won Manhunt in real life, he would never win it here. They caught him every single time. The consequences of their victory always left him bolting upright in bed, screaming and digging his nails into his flesh so hard it bled or leaving deep bruises on his wrist from where he was clutching it with his other hand. The images and the noises haunted him all day. No matter how many showers he took he could still feel the nasty, sticky blood. No matter how many times he brought his hand to his face, he could not convince himself that there wasn’t a round, white mask that he couldn’t remove.

Now it’s easier to understand why he desperately avoided sleep, to the point of a complete bodily shutdown, right? At least he hoped so. He needed a reason to justify it.

“Oh DREEEAAM!” George called again. His voice sent horrid shivers down Dream’s spine, and he stumbled a bit. The Hunters grew closer.

“You can’t escape us, you little muffin-head!” Bad yelled. “We’ll get you this time!”

_You get me every time_ Dream thought, urging himself to pick up the pace. He could see the speck of light widening into an actual hole. An exit from this dark and twisted place. He wished he could stop running. He knew it was a nightmare, he knew he wouldn’t win. He wished he could give up and let it be over with sooner, or even wake himself up. He hated that his subconscious was as stubborn as he was in his waking moments.

So close. He was so close to the exit of the forest. He could already see the plains. Dream wasn’t sure why he thought reaching the plains would help. It would only mean he had no place to hide and no way to make traps and tricks. A death sentence, effectively. But he had nowhere else to go. Finally, he burst through the tree line and flew past a few pigs who were more than startled.

The Hunters were right behind him.

He took off across the field, his only option to keep running even though his heart felt like it would explode. He tore through the tall grass, heading for the mountain range just across the way. _Just make it to the mountains_ he told himself. With this little bit of hope, he found one last burst of adrenaline to spur him forward.

He didn’t see the ravine until it was too late.

The plains were dangerous like that. One second you’d be running across the flat ground and the next you’d be setting your foot onto nothing but air, with no hope of reacting quickly enough to save yourself. Dream tumbled down into the huge fissure in the earth, wind whistling in his ears and muffling the shouts of the Hunters who were mere seconds behind him. They hadn’t been able to stop in time either.

Dream smiled behind his mask as he fell. This was his favorite ending to these nightmares. Every so often, he was graced with a quick death. He would smash his head against the rocks and wake up instantly. Disturbed, but considerably less traumatized than he would be if the Hunters caught him and he died his more slow, painful death at their hands. He flung his arms open and waited for the sweet release of death to bring him back to his waking mind.

His back exploded against something hard and cold, and for a second he panicked and thought that he somehow lived after being smashed against the rocks. That is, until he could no longer breathe and he began to flail, realizing he was under-water. Of course. He had landed in the water. Horribly bruised, horribly winded, and so horribly alive.

After ditching his backpack and pulling himself to the surface, Dream realized that there was something worse than the fact that he was still alive.

Two of the Hunters had fallen in after him.

And one of them survived.

Sapnap was wading his way out of the water to the dry land, stopping just for a second to examine the body of the other Hunter. Dream felt sick to his stomach. Even with water-clogged eyes and from a distance, he could tell that the mangled up body and broken bones belonged to Bad. Sapnap whipped around.

“YOU!” He screamed, pointing an accusatory finger towards Dream that cut through him with more pain than any weapon ever could. “YOU KILLED BAD! JUST LIKE YOU KILLED ANT!”

_Antrost? I-I killed…..?_ Dream suddenly looked down at the blood-covered axe he was still managing to hold onto with one hand while treading water. Oh. OH.

“And now,” Sapnap growled, advancing towards Dream at a frightening speed. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

Dream ditched the axe and scrambled to pull himself onto the bank next to the pool, hands slipping on the wet stone and loose dirt. He heaved himself over the edge and got to his feet before turning to run. Run where? He was in a ravine. His heart sank in his chest. There was no escape. No way out. He stumbled backwards a few feet and started limping as fast as he could down what little space was left in the ravine as Sapnap grew closer and closer and closer until-

“DREAM!”

“GEORGE!” Dream yelled in return. He could see George winding his way down the ravine. He hadn’t fallen in with Sapnap and Bad. He was coming down now. Coming to help Sapnap kill him.

“Pease George!” Dream begged as Sapnap tackled him. His mask met the dirt and he could feel the sturdy leather boot pressing into his back. He could feel the tip of the sword being slowly dragged down his spine. Ever so lightly, ever so gentle. Enough that it drew blood but not anywhere near close enough to give him the sweet release of death. “Make it stop!” he choked out through a sob.

The knife pressed deeper. “GEORGE! HELP!” He screamed. He knew it was weak. He knew it was pathetic. Begging for mercy. He always begged for mercy. It was never given. His breath came in pants and his tears blurred his vision as the fiery pain erupted all down his back. He screamed again when Sapnap flipped him over, pressing his injured back into the dirt. The boot was on his chest now, holding him down. His arms flailed. Sapnap was quick to slice his wrists. Two clean, precise little lines going down his forearms. The blood began to drip.

“Sapnap,” he sobbed. “George.”

Sapnap whipped out a smaller dagger, pulled up Dream’s soaking wet lime green t-shirt, and began to carve images out on Dream’s stomach while he screamed. “NO NO NO NO NO NO STOP! PLEASE! STOP!”

Suddenly, it stopped.

Dream couldn’t even process it in his current state of mind. Everything hurt. His head ached, his heart felt like it had swollen up and popped like a balloon, his back felt like it had been ripped open. And oh- his stomach. How it burned. He didn’t realize that George had pushed Sapnap off of him, launching him into the rocky wall hard enough to knock him out. He felt hands on his shoulders, soft and gentle

“George,” he choked out. He coughed and spit out blood. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone to die.” He begged. Everything was dizzy and disorienting. He didn’t know what was going on. This had never happened before. George had always been as blood thirsty as the others. Now his nimble fingers were gently carding through Dream’s messy, blood-stained hair.

The hands left his hair as George stood. He walked over to where Sapnap had dropped his sword and picked it up. Dream’s eyes widened behind the mask.

“Stop,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Please help me.”

George looked down at him sadly with those deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry Dream. You’re going to die anyway. This will make it less painful. Besides,” George took a deep breath. “You need to wake up. I’m waiting for you.”

“What?”

The sword plunged into flesh and everything went black.

##

Dream woke up suddenly.

He wasn’t screaming for once. But he could still feel the blood leaking from where his nails had dug into his flesh. He whimpered suddenly, unable to stop himself. 

“Dream? DREAM? Clay? Are you okay? What’s going on? Clay please!”

George? He could hear George’s voice, but it sounded different. Muffled. Like he was underwater. Clay peeled his eyes open, instantly regretting it. The light from his bedroom window blinded him, and the whole room was spinning in circles. After a few seconds of him laying as still as possible to try to get the world to stop shifting violently, he was conscious enough to realizing he was laying on the floor. How had that happened?

Too exhausted and sick and dizzy to even think about getting up or even moving a single inch, Dream had no choice but to let sleep drag him back down into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Dream has a nightmare similar to a game of Manhunt. George, Bad, and Sapnap are chasing him. Except that they always win and the consequences of that aren't good. When he wakes up he hears George's voice over Teamspeak but he passes out again. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated!


	5. Over the Ocean Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has a flight to catch. Clay drifts in and out of consciousness on his bedroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this chapter took! Last week was my finals week and I worked a lot on top of other commitments and whatnot! :)

George had finished his breakfast, locked his flat, and handed off Dog and Cat to his mother, who came to pick them up in her car because George did not have a car or a license. She had offered to drive him to the airport, but George had declined. He knew if his mother pestered him about his visit during the car ride he might break down. So after accepting a nice big hug (George was not a physical person, but this was his mum for crying out loud) he was stepping into an Uber and being whisked away to the airport.

During the journey, he checked Twitter and sent a few texts.

**Gogy to Nickotine** : On my way to the airport!

He knew that Nick wouldn’t be awake to read it for several hours, but he also knew that his friend would appreciate the updates when he did finally arise. He opened Dream’s contact and stared at the text history. They had still heard nothing from the Florida man. George sent another text anyway.

**Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Hi Clay! I know this is crazy, but I thought you should know that I’m about to get on a flight to Orlando. I’ll see you soon! :)

George scrolled through Twitter, liking Tweets and occasionally replying. He hadn’t told anyone but Sapnap about his trip, and he planned on keeping it that way. Once he got to Florida and figured out what was going on, he and Sapnap agreed to tell at least BadBoyHalo what was up. Maybe others, but they weren’t sure. In the meantime, Sapnap had told George to leave fielding the questions from Dream’s other friends and SMP members about his absence up to him. George didn’t know what Nick was telling them, but he was glad he didn’t have to deal with it.

The stans, thank goodness, hadn’t really noticed anything yet. Hopefully they wouldn’t. Dream was usually active on Twitter at least once a day, but only 24 hours had passed since he’d last liked something and his schedule was sporadic. His lack of online presence was not suspicious enough for people to start worrying and theorizing. He hoped.

Getting his baggage checked in and boarding the plane was easier than he thought it would be. The airport wasn’t super crowded, which was nice. He did have to ask for a different landmark when the kind lady at security told him to follow the red signs and not the black ones and he had to admit he couldn’t tell the difference, cheeks flushed red. All in all, he got where he needed to go and now he was sitting on an airplane, earbuds in and foot tapping nervously against the ground.

**Gogy to Nickotine** : About to take off!

**Nickotine to Gogy** : Safe travels Goog! Text me when you’re on the other side <3

**Gogy to Nickotine** : Will do! <3

A tinny voice came over the speaker’s, reminding everyone to secure their luggage and fasten their seatbelts before take-off. George double checked that everything was good before hitting play on his Spotify playlist and settling back in his seat.

He was on the way to America.

##

Clay woke up a few more times. The first time, he felt well-rested enough to drag himself across the floor towards his desk. His phone was on the desk and he wanted it. However, he passed out again before he could get his hands on it.

Everything after that was a blur of dreams and reality. He didn’t have another nightmare as horrid and awful as the first one. His dreams were more just….weird. More silly and goofy or slightly off and disturbing, like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Nothing horrific though, and he was thankful for that.

It had been at least 72 hours, possibly more, since he had drunk any water. He had two energy drinks in that time. It been at least 4 days since he’d eaten solid food. At least, if only another day had passed. The intermittent napping was helping a little bit, but not much. His stomach ached and his head pounded and he felt weak and useless. He knew he had to do _something_. He wanted to call his mom. Anyone. He had no idea how much time had passed anymore.

Sometimes he had nice dreams. At one point, he had dreamed that he’d reached his phone and gotten a text from George saying that he was flying to Florida. Clay woke up from that dream with mixed feelings. Happy, because he liked the thought of George coming to Florida. That’s the first thing Clay would do once he could pick himself up off his bedroom floor. Buy George a plane ticket. He was also sad though, because he missed George and he wanted him to be here _now_.

Clay tried calling his mom to come help him, but at some point his phone had died. His PC had shut itself off too. He had no contact with the outside world until he was strong enough to shuffle to his feet and get a charger for either. So he waited, drifted in and out of sleep and tried to save up as much strength as he could. All he had to do was make it about four feet and he’d be saved.

He could hear Patches meowing outside of his door and he was so mad that he had shut it. He could hear her scratching, trying to get to him. She was probably pretty hungry, having missed about two meals by now if the shadows on the wall had anything to say about it. He whispered her name and she meowed back to him. His heart ached. She deserved better. She was such an amazing little cat.

He was so upset at himself. He knew he shouldn’t have let it get this far. He should have been eating food and drinking water, even if he was avoiding sleep. He should have told his friends about it. Hell, maybe he should have tried to go to a counselor and figure out the cause of the nightmares. Something. Anything. He should never have let the stress and anxiety and fear snowball into something that crushed him so hard he couldn’t get back up.

Literally.

He turned on his side, trying to get to his knees and crawl pathetically over to his phone charger. He gave up halfway, panting. His empty stomach churned and his head felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to it. He felt the tears well up in his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t cry and waste any of the water his body had left, but he couldn’t help it. Hot, salty tears rolled down his cheeks as he curled his arms around himself.

His heart hurt.

He wanted comfort. From anything. Anywhere. He wanted a blanket. He wanted some water. As dumb as it sounded, he wanted his mom to come take care of him like she did when he was little and sick. He wanted his friends. He wanted Nick. He wanted George.

He didn’t hear the doorbell ring. He didn’t hear the front door open and close. He didn’t hear the soft footsteps, or Patches’ happy little meows. He didn’t hear the barely audible click of his bedroom door, or the small gasp.

“Clay?” came a whisper.

Oh. He must’ve passed out again. He was clearly stuck in another dream. Still, wanting to live in this nice fantasy as long as he could, he responded.

“George?”

##

George nervously got off of the plan. The Orlando airport was much more crowded and it stressed him out a lot more. He tried to follow the signs to the baggage claim. After collecting his bags, he had to pause and consider his next move.

While this whole trip had been very impromptu, he did have the sense to think it through more before he actually left. He had Clay’s address, of course. Just as Clay had his. They would often send each other merch, or birthday or Christmas presents, or sometimes even surprise each other by having food delivered. He wasn’t going to be wandering around Orlando guessing which residence was his best friend’s.

George updated his location in the Uber app on his phone and got an Uber from the airport to Clay’s house, which was about forty-five minutes away without traffic. A little bit outside of Orlando, George noted. Now all he had to do was wait. His stomach growled and he realized that he was hungry, but he didn’t have American money yet to pay for airport food. That was one thing he hadn’t thought about.

His Uber arrived and the driver was pretty silent after they initially greeted each other, which George was thankful for. He logged into Discord on his phone and responded to a few people like Karl and Quackity, who had either noticed his absence or asked him to do something. He lied and said he was asleep and then spending time with family. He wondered how he’d continue to lie if this trip was really stretched out.

**Gogy to Nickotine** : In the Uber going to Dreams house!!!!!!!

**Nickotine to Gogy** : GEORGE

**Nickotine to Gogy** : GOGY

**Nickotine to Gogy** : WE’RE IN THE SAME CONTINENT! THE SAME COUNTRY!!!

George couldn’t help but smile widely

**Gogy to Nickotine** : I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

**Nickotine to Gogy** : wave hi 2 me

**Gogy to Nickotine** : No. that’s embarrassing

**Nickotine to Gogy** : >:(

**Gogy to Nickotine** : Fine

He lifted his hand and waved out the window in a random direction. He noticed his Uber driver giving him a strange look and his cheeks flushed red.

**Gogy to Nickotine** : I waved

**Nickotine to Gogy** : :D

**Gogy to Nickotine** : I hate you

**Nickotine to Gogy** : U love me :3

The drive to Dream’s house took forever, yet it was over in a flash. George tipped the driver well and said goodbye, before lugging his suitcase up to the foreign front step. Staring at the house before him, everything seemed so much more real than it had before. This was Dream’s house. Clay’s house. Clay lived here.

There were lights on inside. George took another deep breath and let it out before raising a shaky hand to the doorbell. He pressed it and waited. After about two minutes, he figured no one was coming to answer it. He felt bad about breaking into Clay’s house, but he kind of didn’t. Also, did it really count as breaking in if your friend had bragged to you on a call at 3am, loopy from exhaustion, that they had found the best hiding place ever for a spare key and then described the location to you in detail?

George unlocked the door and hauled his suitcase inside. He closed the door behind him and re-locked it. He stopped and turned to look around. To the right of the front door George could see Dream’s spacious kitchen, which he had seen plenty of times before in snaps or in the background of pictures of Patches.

George honestly thought it was kind of funny that he already knew the basic layout of Dream’s house through Snapchat alone. The two snapped all the time. Clay sent him pictures of everything and anything except for his face. His house, his cat, his feet. Just not his face. George was kind of thankful that he knew that all he had to do to get to Clay’s room was to walk down the hallway and take a left.

He was really nervous again and starting to overthink, so he forced himself to keep walking. All of the lights in Clay’s house were on, which was odd. It ruled out the possibility that Clay’s absence was because he left or something. He approached his friend’s bedroom door, which was shut, and accidentally startled the little fuzzy ball sleeping right in front of it.

The cat immediately leapt to her feet, staring at George with big eyes. “You must be Patches,” he said softly. She blinked at him and then started meowing and scratching at Clay’s bedroom door. George reached for the handle and turned it, slowly opening the door. Patches dashed through as soon as the space was big enough for her, chirping and rushing to the figure curled up on the ground.

Clay’s room was pretty average. A queen-sized bed pushed up against the wall. His gamer desk and chair across from it, with his impressive PC and monitor set-up, headset laying abandoned on the desk. The trash can next to the desk was overflowing with Monster Energy and Bang! cans and there were two mugs on Dream’s desk. His brow furrowed. He had no idea Dream consumed that much caffeine. Dream had told George specifically that he didn’t like coffee and wasn’t fond of energy drinks either.

Of course, George took all of this in within a few seconds of walking in the door. He immediately spotted a figure, curled up on the floor. His yellow (probably green) hoodie was pulled over his head and his arms were wrapped around himself. George took a few steps over.

“Clay?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

There was a moment of silence, and then the figure shifted, turning to look up at George with hazy and tear-filled eyes.

“George?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out on Friday!


	6. United at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets Clay in person for the first time, and proceeds to take care of his friend (who he assumes has the flu). Clay is still too sick to be fully aware of what's going on around him.

_George took all of this in within a few seconds of walking in the door. He immediately spotted a figure, curled up on the floor. His yellow (probably green) hoodie was pulled over his head and his arms were wrapped around himself. George took a few steps over._

_“Clay?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle him._

_There was a moment of silence, and then the figure shifted, turning to look up at George with hazy and tear-filled eyes._

_“George?”_

##

“George?” Clay answered. George stood, slack-jawed, taking in Clay’s face for the first time. He knew what Clay looked like from a verbal description. George knew that his eyes were green (although all he could see was a weird golden-yellowy color), and he knew that his hair was a dark dirty-blonde, almost brown (bits of hair were hanging around his face in wisps). No one had told him that Dream had freckles. They were light but clearly visible, dotting his cheeks and his nose. 

After he got over his initial shock of seeing Clay’s face for the first time, George doubled-back to re-assess. Clay looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, and George could see the tear tracks streaked across his cheeks. Clay also just looked thin. George did not expect Clay to be all huge and buff and covered with muscles like some of the fanart portrayed him as. Clay said it himself, he played Minecraft all day so why would he have abs? Still, even though he was 6’3’’ he looked so small curled up on the floor like that.

“George?” Clay asked again. George noted that his voice sounded terribly hoarse, like he’d been screaming or something. George dropped down onto his knees.

“Hey there Dream. What are you doing on the floor?”

“Fell,” Dream responded. “Too dizzy. No food. Couldn’t get my phone.” Each word sounded painful.

George looked down to where Clay’s phone was clutched in his hand. He gently tugged it out of his grip. Dead. He looked back down to Clay, who was slowly trying to shift himself into a sitting position. George grabbed his shoulder and arm to stabilize him. “Hey, I don’t know exactly what’s going on but let’s get you into bed, okay?”

He helped Dream get to his feet and lead him over to the bed, which was a mere few feet away. He gently helped to lower Clay into it. He closed his eyes and was clutching his stomach. George was concerned. “Hey Dream? Clay? Can you tell me how you feel?”

There was a pause. Clay didn’t open his eyes or attempt to move, but eventually he spoke. “Dizzy. Nauseous. Hungry. Thirsty.” George nodded. It sounded like Clay had gotten sick somehow. Clay had gotten sick several times in the years George had known him, but it had never gotten to the point where he couldn’t walk. Then again, there was a first time for everything. George pressed his palm against Dream’s forehead, which was sweaty even though the man was shivering.

Clay sighed happily. “I’m happy you’re here George,” he murmured. “I’m gonna miss you when I wake up.”

George smiled slightly. Clearly, his friend was not entirely in his right mind. “Well why don’t keep dreaming, Dream.” He giggled a bit. “And we can see what happens when you wake up.” It felt so weird to tease Dream without hearing that tea kettle wheeze and jabs thrown right back at him. Dream didn’t respond, having fallen asleep again.

George took a second to get another good look at his friend’s face. He was here. He had met Dream. He had seen his face. He was in his house. Dream was okay! He was just really sick, most likely with the flu or something from his symptoms. He must have passed out on Teamspeak with George and was too weak to get up again. Poor Dream. That must have been awful.

**Gogy to Nickotine** : Got to his house safely! Found him on the floor of his room. I think he just has a really nasty fever. He seems a little out of it. I’m gonna do what I can real quick and then call you?

**Nickotine to Gogy** : He must have been really sick! :( Call me whenever you can, no rush

**Nickotine to Gogy** : Did his stunning good looks blow you away like he always claimed they would? ;)

**Gogy to Nickotine** : stfu

George turned back to the situation at hand. He had broken into his best friend’s house, and his friend was sick, and he needed to take care of him till he got better. First things first, George plugged Dream’s phone into the charger next to his bed so it would be fully charged for him when he woke up. Then George followed Patches back to the kitchen. The cat had been meowing and winding her way through George’s legs for awhile now, and he figured she was hungry.

Patches led him straight to the cupboard that Clay kept her food in, and George gave her what he thought was a good amount. Then he looked around the kitchen. It felt wrong digging through Clay’s stuff without his knowledge or permission, but George had to. He found some ibuprofen in the cabinet in the bathroom and he filled a glass with water and brought it back to the bedroom. He felt bad waking Clay up, but this was necessary. After getting a very sleepy and disoriented Clay to swallow the pill and take a few sips of water, he fell asleep again immediately.

_Alright_ George thought to himself. _Now time for Step Two: food_. He was so relieved to find Clay’s cabinets well-stocked. He honestly hadn’t expected his pantry to be this well-furnished when he knew how often Clay ordered take-out. Then again, people could say the same for him. After much digging, George found a can of plain chicken broth and a pan. Clay’s stove was complicated, but he got it to work and started heating up the broth. He made some toast with butter too. He also used the bread and some other stuff to make himself a sandwich.

He brought the food back to Clay and woke him up again. “I brought you some food.”

“George?”

“Yeah! Here, why don’t you take a few sips of this broth?”

Clay just looked at the bowl. “I don’t know… I don’t want to throw up.”

“How about just three sips?” George coaxed gently. “Three sips of broth, three sips of water, and you can go back to sleep.”

Clay kept staring at the bowl, his forehead scrunching up to show his deep concentration as he thought it over. “Okay,” he relented. He took a few careful sips of the broth, and to George’s delight he took a few extra sips. After he set the bowl back down, George offered him some water.

“Why don’t we get you out of your old clothes and into something more comfortable?” he offered gently. Dream shook his head.

“Don’t wanna move right now. Feel kind of nauseous.” George brought his palm back up to Dream’s forehead. Still a little hot.

“Alright, I’ll let you go back to sleep,” George relented. He stood up to go find a blanket to toss over his friend, because Clay probably wouldn’t want to move to get under the covers. Clay’s hand grabbed his wrist suddenly. George paused. “Clay?” he asked softly.

Dream looked up at him. “Please don’t go,” he murmured quietly. George’s heart wrenched as he thought about what he had heard Dream muttering and whimpering about over Teamspeak the other day.

“Okay Dream.” He sat back on the bed. “I’ll stay. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Dream smiled and let go of George’s wrist, re-positioning his head a bit and dozing off again. George smiled. He scooted back a bit so that he was leaning against the headboard. He unplugged Dream’s phone (which was now at 80 percent) so that he could charge his own, which was almost dead. His phone charger was in his suitcase, which was still in the kitchen. Patches pranced back into the room, hopping on top of a large pile of boxes that George could only assume was fan-mail tucked into the corner of the room.

George had an idea. He slowly slipped off of the bed, making sure not to wake Dream, and took Dream’s phone. He snapped a quick picture of Patches on top of the pile of mail. Settling back into the bed, he opened Dream’s phone (he knew the password) and pulled up Twitter, where Dream was already logged into his second account. He tried to think of something Dream would say. Hopefully, this would stop Dream’s many fans from noticing his absence and worrying about it.

Finally, he posted the picture of Patches along with the caption “she likes the fan mail but doesn’t like wearing this jacket LMAOO”. Speaking of which, Patches did look pretty mad about the jacket. George got up again to take it off of her. She chirped happily and jumped onto the bed, curling up against Dream’s side. It looked like she was used to cuddling with her owner. _That’s cute._

He put Dream’s phone down and called Nick, who picked up immediately. George scrolled through his own Twitter account as they talked, George speaking softly so as not to wake up Dream. He noticed that someone had responded to the picture of Patches with “this doesn’t look like a tall person angle…”

“Shoot, Nick,” he panicked. “Someone replied ‘this doesn’t look like a tall person angle’. What do I say?”

Nick was laughing on the other end of the line. “Just say that Drista took it or something man. It lines up with what I told the others, which is that Dream is taking some family time.”

“Smart,” George muttered, going back on Dream’s phone and replying “drista is short”. He set the phone back on and yawned.

“Tired already?” Sapnap teased. George groaned.

“Dude, this was so stressful for me. I’m so happy that I’m here and that Clay is okay. But it’s like… 2am in England right now.”

“Then go to bed, silly. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“Should we tell the others that Dream has the flu and you’re in Orlando with him?” Nick asked. George sat there and thought about that for a moment. “We can tell them tomorrow if you’d like, I know it’s late for you and you’re tired.”

“Yeah,” George agreed. “Let’s wait till tomorrow. Hopefully by then Dream will be recovered enough to understand what’s going on around him and he can do it himself.”

“True! He still out of it?”

“Yeah, he seemed really dazed and not like himself when I got him to eat a bit. He’s usually so loud and talks so much. It’s odd to see him be quiet.”

Sapnap laughed. “Watch, in a few days we’re both gonna be begging for him to shut up again while he’s beating us at Minecraft.”

“I sure hope so!” George said. “It’d be awfully rude of him to not show me a good time when I flew all the way out here to see him!” Nick laughed again. “Alrighty Sap, I think I’m gonna get some rest.”

“G’night Gogy! I’m gonna play CSGO and then maybe hop on the SMP for Karl’s stream, so I’ll be up if you need me.”

“M’kay! Night!” They hung up and George was left in silence. The only noise he could hear was Dream’s soft breathing and Patches’ purring. He got up to turn off the light. He considered changing out of his jeans into something more comfortable and brushing his teeth, but everything was buried in his suitcase and he was exhausted. Plus, he promised Dream he’d be right by his side.

George got back into bed, laying on top of the covers like Dream was but giving the taller man plenty of space. The bed was big, so it was easy for the two of them to comfortably share. “Goodnight Dream,” George whispered quietly, before rolling over. Then he fell fast asleep.

##

Clay woke up slowly. The last memory that resurfaced was of him crying on the floor after failing to reach his phone charger. Right. He shifted around a bit, still afraid to open his eyes. The pounding headache from earlier had lessened considerably. Maybe he had slept it off? Suddenly, he realized that he wasn’t on the floor anymore. He could feel his soft quilt underneath him. He also became aware of Patches, who was curled against his side. How did she get in?

He hummed a bit to himself, partially to make any sort of noise in the deafening silence and partially to check his throat, which had gotten very dry and hoarse. What had happened? Did he manage to make it onto his bed? He vaguely remembered bits and pieces of what he had dreamed about. He knew he had a dream earlier about getting a text from George saying he was coming to Florida. He felt like he had a few more dreams with George in them.

He squinted his eyes and tried to think. Pieces of the dreams came floating back to him. George in his house, George with Patches. George giving him water. His throat was still so dry. He wanted water even more badly now. Clay reached out an unsteady hand and ran it over his sheets until his hand found the cold metal of his phone. Lifting it up to his face, he managed to open his eyes just a crack as he unlocked it. Wait a second, hadn’t his phone been dead?

His headache came back just a bit as he scanned his apps, noticing the absurd amount of message notifications. The little red numbers in the corners of his apps glared at him angrily. He sighed and opened messages first. Most of them were from George and Nick. He clicked the top messages, which were George’s, and started to scroll through them. The words kind of blurred together a bit, but when he saw the last text he froze.

**Gogy to Mr. Sandman** : Hi Clay! I know this is crazy, but I thought you should know that I’m about to get on a flight to Orlando. I’ll see you soon! :)

He sat bolt right in bed, which may not have been the brightest move as he was still slightly dizzy and nauseous. Patches was startled, and she leapt up too. He turned to look at her and noticed the other presence in his bed. Dead asleep, laying on top of the covers in jeans and what looked like his own blue merch hoodie, was-

“George?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started putting a few lines from the previous chapter at the beginning. Is that annoying or is that helpful so you can remember where we left off last time? Let me know! 
> 
> The rest of this story will contain angst and mostly hurt/comfort as Clay struggles to recover and George supports him! Lots of wholesome friendship moments! :) Things may get better before they get worse? I can't decide how long I want this to be. Not too short, I don't want it to be one of those "you're here and now you can instantly love my issues away". It's unrealistic. But I also don't want the fic to become too slow paced and uninteresting. Let me know if you have any thoughts on this matter or any ideas of what you'd like to see! I already have a few chapters scripted in advance but feedback is always appreciated! :)


	7. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay finally wakes up with a clear mind. George is still under the assumption that he has the flu.

_He sat bolt right in bed, which may not have been the brightest move as he was still slightly dizzy and nauseous. Patches was startled, and she leapt up too. He turned to look at her and noticed the other presence in his bed. Dead asleep, laying on top of the covers in jeans and what looked like his own blue merch hoodie, was-_

_“George?”_

Clay’s brain was malfunctioning. All he could do was stare at his best friend, who was very much real and very much present. George was sleeping on the far edge of his bed, mouth open a little bit and his short brown hair a mess, the longer bits of it going so far as to curl a little. Clay brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed them so hard that it made his vision spotty and then looked back over again. Still there.

Not daring to believe it when he knew he had been drifting in and out of consciousness and shifty nightmares for who knows how long, Clay reached out a shaking hand and gently poked George’s shoulder. His finger made contact with the fabric of the hoodie. _Real. Real. Real. This is real! George is here! Why is he here? How did he get here?_

Clay had so many questions that it almost hurt to think of them all. There was only one way to get answers though, and that was to wake George up. Clay retracted his hand from where it was still resting on George’s hoodie-clad shoulder and used it to prop himself up into a sitting position. He took the time to get a good look at the world around him. His vision was unimpaired by extreme dizziness or tears for the first time in awhile.

On his bedside table, there was a bottle of ibuprofen and a bowl of brown liquid (probably a broth or soup of some kind). There was also a plate of stale looking toast and a glass of water. Clay picked up the glass immediately and took a cautious sip, before downing the rest of the water greedily. His stomach felt really weird, and the sharp pain of hunger from earlier had been replaced with a dull ache. The sunlight streaming through the windows and his now-charged phone screen let him know that it was about eight o’clock in the morning.

Suddenly, there was some shuffling and a murmuring noise. Clay turned his attention back to the mysterious intruder in his house, who was now stretching and rubbing his own eyes. He turned and looked at Clay, a smile lighting up across his face. Goodness, was it nice to see his best friend’s smile in person. Clay realized the webcam, no matter how high quality, had never done George justice.

“You’re finally awake!” George’s voice broke Clay out of his intense study of George’s face.

“I am….how are you here? What happened?” Clay felt slightly embarrassed. He knew he had passed out while trying to sign out of a Teamspeak call with George, but his memory after that was either hazy or nonexistent.

George gave him a sympathetic smile. “You don’t remember anything?”

Clay squinted his eyes in concentration as he willed his brain to function. “I remember… we were recording and I wasn’t feeling well. I think I passed out. After that I remember waking up and trying to get my phone. I thought I had a dream that you were here. I guess it wasn’t a dream?”

George laughed lightly. “I’m really here Dream!”

Clay beamed. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a proper greeting. Speaking of…” Clay scooted across the bed and opened his arms. George leaned over and reciprocated the hug. Even though both of them were sitting, Clay was taller enough than George for the Brit to rest his chin on Clay’s shoulder. The hug was tight, and warm, and genuine. The pair had waited so long for this moment. Years, even.

Finally, George pulled away from the embrace. Clay scooted back a bit, and visibly winced at the amount of energy it took. George noticed. “Hey, now that you’re truly awake why don’t you take some more pain medication and try to eat something? Also, I couldn’t find a thermometer to take your temperature so I don’t know how high your fever was. I’m assuming it was high.”

“Fever?” Clay asked.

“Yeah? Haven’t you been sick? People don’t pass out for no reason, Clay.” The younger man almost visibly winced again when George used his real name. “You should have gone to the doctor! Or at least told Nick and I that you weren’t feeling well! Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”

Clay sat there, dumbfounded. _He doesn’t know_ he realized. Obviously George didn’t know. How could he? How could he know about the sleepless nights and the skipped meals? How could he know that Clay had let himself fall into a pit of fear and anxiety and self-hatred and stopped taking care of himself to the point where his body had to completely shut down as a last resort? How could he know when Clay had lied to him? _I never technically said I was doing well_ Clay thought. _Lie of omission_ the little voice in the back of his head piped up.

“Clay?”

George’s voice snapped him back to reality. He realized that he had just been staring at his hands, bathing the entire room in an awkward silence. “Sorry, I’m still really tired and I don’t feel well. I should have told you and Nick, I just didn’t think it was that bad.”

George shook his head. “You’re so stubborn. Look what it does to you.” His words held no ill intent, and they both smiled a bit knowing George could be equally as stubborn. If not more so. The brunet would have done the exact same thing if the roles were reversed, unless they were on stream and he wanted to complain incessantly and get sympathy from thousands.

Clay didn’t end up responding to George’s slight jab. He just reached for the ibuprofen and used the last of his water to swallow one. George took the empty glass from him. “If you feel well enough to stand, would you like to shower or at least change clothes? It should help you feel better! I can make you some breakfast…what types of things do you eat when you have the flu?”

“You think it’s the flu?”

“I’m not a doctor, but your symptoms match. Unless you have Covid or something!” George joked.

Clay shook his head. “I never leave my house. Only every so often for groceries or to take a walk. There’s no chance I could have gotten it.”

“Good to know.”

There was another pregnant pause, before Clay broke the silence. “I think I’ll try to take a shower now.” He cautiously slid off of the bed, making sure his legs would hold him up before he transferred all of his weight onto them. It had been embarrassingly long since he had showered or changed clothes. Admittedly, it would feel nice to be fresh and clean again.

George also stood, unplugging his phone (from Dream’s phone charger, the Florida man noted) and began to gather the dishes from the bedside table. “I’ll take these to the kitchen and give you some privacy. Is it okay if I make myself some breakfast? I’m sorry I was digging through your kitchen earlier.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t apologize. You’re my best friend and you flew across the country to see me. Help yourself to anything you want, I don’t care. What’s mine is yours.” Clay realized he had never really gotten the full story on how George came to Orlando, and even why he came to Orlando. Now was not the time, though. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to stand or walk so he wanted to shower quickly. He shuffled towards the bathroom as George exited his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Clay put both hands on the marble bathroom counter and stared at himself in the mirror. It was hard to look at. His face had definitely gotten a lot thinner over the past few weeks. His eyes had dark circles underneath them and overall he looked very pale and sickly. He had never gotten a hair cut after quarantine, and his hair was a rat’s nest. Back when he was, you know, exercising basic self care, he usually kept his hair in man bun or a little pony tail to keep it off of his face. Over the course of the past few days, the rubberband had become loose and basically all of his slightly wavy hair had escaped it.

Looking away from his reflection, Clay sighed. He felt like he was living in one of his weird dreams. First of all, he couldn’t believe George was here. Obviously he knew George and Nick cared about him, all three of them were insanely close. He just hadn’t realized the full extent, he supposed. Still, his phone told him that only two days had passed since the fateful recording day. The day he passed out. George had made a very illogical and hasty decision to fly across an entire ocean awfully quickly.

Was there something Clay didn’t know? He hoped he hadn’t said or done anything embarrassing when he wasn’t in his right mind. He remembered snapping at Nick, and apologizing to George. He honestly couldn’t untangle any of his weird dreams from reality anymore.

Clay turned the shower on so that the water would warm up and peeled off his outer layers. Without his slightly oversized hoodie hanging off of his somewhat broad shoulders, he looked a lot thinner than he remembered. Clay had never been fat, or muscular, but he had always been decently filled out. _I guess that’s what skipping meals for weeks does to you. Makes sense._

His shower was quick. He could feel the little energy that he had started with drain very quickly, and by the time he had managed to towel off his body and his hair and change into his Florida gators sweatpants and one of his merch tees, his legs felt like jelly and his vision was unsteady. He crawled back into his bed and got under the covers this time because he felt slightly chilly. He would have to ask George to mess with his complicated thermostat and put some heat on.

Speaking of George, the colorblind boy knocked softly on his door and entered. He was carrying a now re-heated bowl of broth, a brand new slice of toast, and a glass of water in his hands. Patches was on his heels, obsessed with her new friend and following him everywhere. George set the food down on Dream’s bedside table.

George flashed Dream one of his million dollar smiles, the one that literally looked like a smiley face emoji, and Clay suddenly felt self-conscious about his over-sized tee and his messy hair which he had thrown up into a man-bun again to keep out of his face. “Was the shower good?” George asked.

Dream nodded. “It felt really nice.”

“I’m glad! How about eating some more?” George coaxed, handing him the bowl of broth. Clay stared down at the liquid. He knew that it would help him. He knew that he would feel better. It somehow felt wrong though. His stomach was begging for food, yet he almost felt like gagging when he thought of lifting the spoon to his lips and swallowing. Still, looking up at George’s calm and supporting half-smile, he decided that he needed to do his best. He hesitantly took a sip.

Clay managed to drink three-fourths of the bowl of broth, leaving only a little bit swirling around at the bottom. Each bite was slow and forced, and overall it took a solid thirty minutes for him to eat that much. However, he and George had been having a passionate conversation about a video idea that George had been begging Dream to record with him for weeks.

“You’re not even going to edit it anytime soon if we did!” Clay protested, setting the bowl down and reaching for the glass of water. George sputtered in protest.

“I would too!”

“You literally wouldn’t. By the time you got around to editing it, the video won’t even be relevant anymore. You have to be fast when you’re working with trends and memes, they die quickly.”

“Dream I _know_ that, I would edit the video right away! Sapnap said he’d record it with me already too!”

“Then just record it with Sap. You don’t need me!” Dream chuckled. The two were not actually arguing, to be clear. Clay had never remembered having a genuine argument with George. They teased each other a lot, and they disagreed on plenty of things. Sometimes things got taken too far and sometimes people got frustrated, but apologies came quickly and most teasing and disagreements came entirely out of goodwill and humor.

George put on a pouty face, which was somehow more potent in real life then it was over camera. “We may not need you, but we want you!” he said. His words felt like a stab wound in Clay’s heart. Obviously they were kind and genuine, and this sort of thing was the closest anyone would ever get to an “I love you” from the very reserved GeorgeNotFound, but for some reason they hurt Dream’s heart more than they warmed it.

George was always so sweet to him. Always willing to record videos with him. Waking up and going to sleep at ungodly hours just to attempt to synch his sleep schedule with Dream’s. Setting his phone up so that Dream’s calls would come through even in Do Not Disturb mode, providing Dream with 24/7 access to George even for something as simple as a frustrating code or a lonely night. Always supporting him in a VC during his speedrun streams. Now, George had flown to Florida for him on a whim, and although still plenty playful and stubborn, was giving Dream a more nurturing side that he had never really seen before. That he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Clay felt his stomach churn and he had to stop talking and force himself to concentrate on not throwing up. He would NOT throw up, not when George looked so happy at how much he had eaten. He stared at his bedsheets, willing the contents of his stomach to stay put. George sensed his change in demeaner and must have chalked it up to tiredness.

“Do you want to get some sleep?”

Clay thought about it and then nodded, not realizing how truly tired he was even though he had only been awake for an hour. He wanted to stay awake and continue talking to George, either convince him not to film the video or flesh it out more if they decided to go through with it, but he could already feel his eyelids drooping.

“Do you mind if I shower and change while you’re asleep? Do you have a guest bathroom?” George asked. Clay nodded.

“It’s down the hall and on the right. The guest bathroom doesn’t have a shower, you can just use mine. Help yourself to any food or anything you could want.”

“Okay! Thank you!” George helped Clay pull his blankets up a little bit more. “You all comfy and cozy? Do you need more water?”

“You’re such a mom,” Clay chuckled.

The tips of George’s ears turned pink and his face flushed. “Shut up, I am not!”

“I didn’t know you could nag so well,” Clay continued, entirely joking. “Will you read me a bedtime story?” He batted his eyelashes at George.

George shoved the other pillow into Clay’s face in retaliation. “Shut up,” he mumbled again. “It’s not even bedtime, you’re just taking a nap to help you heal. It’s nine thirty in the morning.”

“If I’m going to bed, then it’s bedtime. Tell me a story about a colorblind king and his valiant and extremely handsome knight!”

“You literally dethroned me!” George protested. “You’re the most annoying patient anyone could ever have. If I took you to the hospital they would send you back home immediately.”

Dream smiled. “We are so not having the kingship conversation again. And stop pretending you’re not just as bad, whenever you get sick you always complain a lot. Sapnap is right, we baby you too much.”

George hit him with the pillow again. “You have no idea how happy I am to be able to have this little disagreement with you in person.”

Clay closed his eyes, resting his arm over his face. “It does hit different,” he agreed sleepily. George stood and walked towards the door, flicking the light off even though the sunlight was still streaming through the windows. He watched Clay roll over and pull the covers over his head a bit more.

“Have a good rest!” he said softly. Clay’s soft snores were his only response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next one is extra long and has a lot more angst. 
> 
> Tomorrow is my birthday so I'll probably post the next chapter on Wednesday! Can't wait to see you all there!


	8. You Weren't There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay has another nightmare that leaves him shaken. George does his best to calm his friend down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to update! Had to deal with a lot of personal stuff. Back to our regularly scheduled program! XD

He was in the desert this time.

Running for his life, feet sinking into the sand and slowing down each step by a painful amount. His only saviour was the fact that sand is an unbiased third party. It slowed his pursuers down just as much as it slowed him. Sand was awful to run across. He dodged a few cacti and weaved through a small section of underbrush. The sand also muffled his opponents’ footsteps, making it impossible to guess how close they were without looking.

“OH DREEEAAAAM!”

Dream risked a glance over his shoulder and almost instantly regretted it. His three friends were less than twenty feet behind him.

_Three?_

Dream did a double take, stumbling in the sand and loosing a few feet of buffer in between the Hunters and himself. Bad, Sapnap, and Antfrost were following his path through the cacti and the underbrush. _George? Where is George?_ He wasn’t sure to be relieved or terrified that the British boy wasn’t with the others.

Suddenly, Dream spotted a looming structure in the distance. A mountain? A hill? The edge of the desert perhaps? He realized that it was a Desert Temple and swore under his breath. Completely useless unless the Hunters stopped to loot it (which was unlikely).

Suddenly, Dream had a brilliantly wicked idea. He changed his course slightly, heading straight for the temple. He could hear the Hunters shouting behind him, some mocking him and some questioning why he was headed towards a complete dead end. Dream felt a sick sort of relief as the building came closer, so grateful that soon this would all be over.

He tore through the doorless entryway, running for the center and kicking open a hole that would allow him to get to the area down below. The area that all the chests were in.

Dream was not here for the chests.

He had no other choice than to jump straight down and let himself hit the ground, the force of it sending him to his knees. He flopped over, taking a few deep breaths.

“He jumped down!” Bad called.

“Wait, it could be a trap!” Sapnap warned. Dream looked up and saw the three hovering around the hole he had made, obviously confused. Dream smiled.

Then he slowly rolled over.

He heard the click of the pressure plate and felt the cool metal shift downwards a bit against his back. He smiled again, closing his eyes. It would all be over in a matter of-

BOOM!

His body was flung in the air as the world exploded around him. Sand and dirt flew everywhere, bits of wood and metal shrapnel mixed in. His body was flung against the wall like a ragdoll before gravity dragged him firmly downward towards the earth once more. To Dream’s horror, he didn’t die upon impact. Why didn’t he die upon impact? The initial explosion burnt the outer layer of his flesh off, and when he hit the large crater in the ground he felt a pain like no other.

He had no choice but to scream in agony, his voice making horrible and nasty sounds he didn’t even know he could make. He felt as though he had been thrown in a pit of lava. The smoke made it nearly impossible to breath and his screams began to become choked off by the thick foggy ash surrounding the still enclosed space. Dream writhed around, every movement bringing more horrendous fiery pain,

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Three sets of feet hit the ground next to him. Dream choked over another scream and let out a sob instead. Why hadn’t he died? He was supposed to have died a quick and painless death and woken up and escaped this awful reality. How the hell had he managed to live? Why couldn’t he ever get away?

Bad was the one leading the group this time. They all knelt around Dream, watching him sob from the pain like it the leading act at a carnival.

“You’ve done most of the work for us,” Bad commented. “You muffin head! You stole our fun!”

Antfrost kicked his side. “STOP!” Dream screamed before he could even think about it. Ant just laughed.

“I guess we might as well just end it,” he responded, shrugging. “Too bad George isn’t here to help.”

“George wouldn’t have helped,” Sapnap butted in. “In fact, if he were here he would have stopped it. That’s what he did last time.”

_Last time?_ Why couldn’t Dream remember a last time. All he knew was here, and now. All he knew was pain. Where was George? Why wasn’t George here? Why wasn’t George stopping them?

_He isn’t here_ Dream thought sadly, his tears burning as they slid across the burnt flesh of his face.

Bad brought his sword down into Dream’s chest, and everything went dark.

##

While Clay was napping, George took a shower and changed into fresh clothes. Although Florida was obviously way hotter than almost anything George had ever experienced, he realized that Clay kept his AC very high to combat that heat. George, a person who naturally got a little chillier than most, was still comfortable in his hoodie and some sweatpants.

Originally he was worried about waking his friend as he tiptoed around his room and bathroom, but it was clear that the younger boy was out like a light. George ended up bringing all of the mugs on Clay’s desk to the kitchen sink to wash them. He left them to dry on the counter, not sure he would be able to accurately guess where they might go. He also threw away some of the old energy drink cans and fast-food wrappers that were in the trash can.

Patches followed George everywhere, which was incredibly adorable. The British man had almost tripped a few times. Eventually, he ended up sitting on the floor of Clay’s living room and playing with the kitty. He had found several cat toys laying around, and he was dragging a string across the floor when he had heard the first shout.

“STOP!”

George and Patches both jumped a little at the sudden noise. Having the common sense to assume that there was something up with Clay and not a random intruder in the house, George leapt to his feet and headed back to the bedroom. A quick glance at his watch let him know it was almost noon. Clay had been sleeping for a little more than two hours at this point.

Slowly pushing open the bedroom door, George could pick up more muttering from within the bedroom. He did not need to turn the overhead lights on, as the sun that was high in the bright Florida sky filled the room with a brilliant haze. Clay was laying on his back, his bedsheets twisted and wrapped around him in an odd manner. It was clear to see how they got to that state as the man suddenly thrashed around in his sleep, throwing his hand out to stop an invisible attacker and letting out a loud whimper.

“Clay?” George quickly rushed over to the bed, gently setting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Clay’s face was not a peaceful one, as a sleeping person’s face should be. It was set in a grimace, and little droplets of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead. George tried to shake him a little bit, to rouse him out of whatever nightmare he was in. That was obviously a bad move, because Clay immediately flinched at his touch and tried to pull himself away as he let out another whimper.

Suddenly, Clay’s eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. George flinched backwards in shock. Clay looked around, eyes glazed over and slightly disoriented. He took in his surroundings and then finally his gaze met George’s and something broke. The first tear trickled slowly down the gaunt, freckled cheek. “You weren’t there,” Clay whispered.

George could only stare, very confused and very anxious. He had no idea what to do. “What do you mean I wasn’t there? Where wasn’t I? I’m right here, Clay.” He tried to make his voice soft and gentle, hoping it would have a calming effect.

Instead, it seemed to have the opposite.

Clay choked over a sob. “You weren’t there,” he repeated. Several more tears followed the path of the first one down his cheeks. Suddenly, the dam let loose and Clay began to sob, hugging himself and beginning to shake. “You weren’t there, you weren’t there. You weren’t there.” His eyes, although red-rimmed and full of tears, were cloudy. Each time he repeated himself felt like a stab in George’s heart. He had no idea what the cryptic phrase meant, but he felt like he had failed his friend somehow.

He was definitely failing him now.

George was awkward at the best of times, unused to giving advice and certainly comfort. Even when fans donated asking for a kind word or two, it was often the best he could do to flash an awkward (he hoped sincere, he meant it to be sincere) smile and say “it will be okay” or even transfer the question or request onto other people he may be on a voice call with. Now, with his best friend literally breaking down in front of him George felt like a deer in the headlights. Frozen. Useless.

He had seen Clay cry before. Clay was definitely an emotional person, at least by George’s definition. Clay wore his heart on his sleeve, always happy to show his affection for his friends and his fans. He had cried tears of joy and thankfulness many times when hitting huge milestones. George had even heard Clay cry out of his frustration or sometimes loneliness or anger, in a voice call at 3am. He also could get angry or frustrated quickly and let his emotions overtake him. Sometimes he lashed out or rage-quit.

George supposed that was one of the reasons he and Dream got along so well. Perhaps one of the reasons their friendship was slightly different with each other than with Sapnap. While Sap had been friends with Dream for longer, he also had a tendency to get frustrated or angry quickly. It made it hard for the two of them to calm down and work together sometimes, especially if they were annoyed at each other.

Dream and George, however, balanced each other out perfectly. Where Dream may get frustrated and angry over a scuffed code, a lost video file, or a video idea gone wrong, George would simply sigh and keep his cool and try again. When Clay became too hyper-focused on one thing, obsessing over it and refusing to stop with his brain going a mile a minute, George had a very calming presence that would often help to ground the other boy and get him to slow down and keep him steady.

None of this was ever talked about, of course. It didn’t need to be. George knew that Dream had helped to make him a much more expressive person, and that he was often more enthusiastic and happy when the other boy was around. Dream knew that George kept him calm and grounded when his emotions and hyper-fixations became too much. It would be too embarrassing to randomly bring stuff like that up out of context. Not that George hadn’t received bits and pieces of Clay’s gratitude through very sweet messages on Thanksgiving Day over the years.

This was something else entirely, a new level that George had never experienced first-hand before. He had genuinely never seen Clay this broken-down and panicked. Part of him wondered if Clay had been dealing with more than he let on and had been hiding it from George, and that was what the cryptic ‘you weren’t there’ meant. George’s heart hurt. Did Clay have things he was hiding? Had George truly not been there for him?

_Forget this. I’m here now_. The past was in the past. George could address that when his best friend wasn’t sobbing and shaking in front of him, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his legs, knuckles turning white. He was here now. He could be here for Clay now. If only he knew how though.

George began to talk, very softly and very steadily. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there Clay. I don’t know where ‘there’ is, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I’m here. I’m right here in Florida with you, in your house. I’m here in person too! Not just a voice in your headset. Look at me Dream! I’m here! Please look at me.” Clay slowly brought his head up until his eyes met George’s. He inhaled, taking a deep and shaky breath.

“Good, good!” George praised. “I’m right here. Keep looking at me.” George took a few hesitant steps forward, being careful to move very slowly and predictably. “I’m here with you now. I’m so close. Here, can I put my hand on your hand? You can feel that I’m really here.”

Clay let out another quiet sob, but nodded. George reached out his hand and gently set it atop his friend’s. “See? I’m right here. Keep looking at me. Eyes on me. You can see my eyes, they’re a stupid brown color. Brown eyes are so boring. My eyes are boring especially, they can’t even see color right.” George realized he was rambling, but it seemed to help Clay. The boy was taking a few more quick inhales, and George gently guided Clay’s hand up to his own chest to try and help the younger boy feel his breathing. He had seen this in a movie once, he thought. Or perhaps read it somewhere?

“Breathe with me! In and out. In and out.” He tried to make sure that his chest was rising and falling consistently. Clay did his best to mimic it. George tried to think of what else he could do. Awhile ago, he had read a few articles about ADHD because he wanted to be able to help his slightly neurodivergent friend whenever things became too much. Sometimes Clay’s brain would just be moving too fast for him to keep up with and he would call George and have the British man talk to him about anything and everything until his brain could slow down and match George’s slow speaking rate. That’s what George had been trying to do here, but he needed to do something more.

He desperately tried to recall more of what he’d read all those years ago. He could remember something about making people describe things to you. Grounding? He couldn’t remember what it was called. It couldn’t hurt to try, though. “Dream, you can see my stupid eyes right? I would really like to see the color of your lampshade, but I can’t. Can you describe it to me please?”

There was a slight pause, the silence filled with forced breathing and sniffles. “Green,” Clay responded quietly.

“I don’t understand the concept of green, Dream.”

Clay let out a shaky laugh. “You-you saw it with your glasses. It’s just darker yellow.”

“True, but I want to know more about it!”

Clay relaxed a little bit, uncurling from the tight ball he was in and pulling his hand off of George’s chest, where he had been feeling the comforting _up, down_ of George’s breathing for the past few minutes. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he mumbled. “It’s just green. It’s the color of the sun shining of fresh grass after a rainfall. Or the first leaves of spring on the trees. Green reminds me of growth…. Of new seasons and new experiences. Of hope? I don’t know…”

Clay suddenly seemed to realized that he was rambling, and that he had stopped crying. He wiped his remaining tears away. George smiled softly. Suddenly, Clay moved forward and a pair of strong arms wrapped around George’s shoulders. A face was buried in his hoodie. “Thank you,” Clay said softly.

George brought his arms up to return the hug. He struggled for a few seconds to think of a good response. “Any time,” he settled upon lamely. He squeezed his friend a little tighter though, hoping to convey his message of comfort and support wordlessly. The two sat there for a little while, just resting in the warmth of the hug.

“George?” Clay spoke up suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“I like your eyes, by the way. Even if they’re stupid and can’t see color right.”

“Thanks.” George smiled softly to himself. Clay understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated and a huge motivator to get chapters out more quickly! :D


	9. Back to Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After comforting Clay from his nightmare, George suggests that the two of them make lunch. Clay struggles with the idea of eating after having skipped meals for so long and due to some insecurities that have been slowly growing. George has an idea!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: nausea, struggles with food, eating disorders, panic attacks  
> (I am NOT saying that Clay has an eating disorder, I just think this chapter might contain triggers for those who do btw)
> 
> I do have some additional things to say about this matter, but I put them at the end.

The boys stayed in an embrace for a long time, neither one of them wanting to be the first to let go. Clay felt more safe and content than he had in a very long time, wrapped up in the warmth and security of his closest friend. He didn’t know how he had gone without a hug from George for so long. He didn’t know what he was going to do when George inevitably left and went back to Europe.

“So… Do we talk about this?” George asked suddenly. His voice was gentle and soft in Clay’s ear.

“Can we not?” Clay asked, knowing that the answer would be no. George deserved an explanation. He would want an explanation. Clay would have no choice.

“Okay. You can just tell me whenever you’re ready,” George responded. He fell silent again.

Clay was shocked. He really should stop underestimating George. In his family when you had an issue it was talked about. If you were upset or angry, every piece of information was ripped from you and dealt with immediately. It was good in theory and Clay knew his parents had only been trying to help (especially since he was a troublesome and over-emotional child) and he always appreciated the support from his family.

Even Sapnap could be impatient. Nick was honest to a fault, perhaps brutally so, and had no problem bringing up issues and dealing with them then and there. He preferred to put everything out in the open and then either find a solution or offer support.

But sometimes Clay didn’t want to talk about what was wrong. He knew he was more emotional than his friends. Sometimes he just needed to feel things and then let them pass. The people in his life had never really understood that. Until now. Until George. Clay squeezed George a little tighter in the hug, trying to convey his sense of gratitude. He hoped George would understand.

Finally, George broke off the hug. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled awkwardly. “It's like one by now, should we make lunch? Are you up for eating anything?”

To be honest, Clay almost gagged when he thought about trying to eat but he forced himself to stay calm. “Yeah, I guess so.” The bright smile that flashed across George’s face was definitely worth any amount of discomfort when it came to eating.

George stood, and offered his hand to Clay. Clay accepted, carefully rotating and testing his legs before putting his weight on them. Even after a bowl of broth, a few glasses of water, and three solid hours of sleep he felt astronomically better. The boys made their way to the kitchen, where Clay guiltily took a seat on a bar stool against his kitchen table. He hated the idea of his own guest making food for him, but at the same time he didn’t know if it was a good idea to be on his feet that much.

The guest in question seemed to have no issue with it. “Are grilled cheese sandwiches okay?” he asked. “I figured it’s still a pretty safe food if you aren’t feeling well. It has some more nutrients though.”

Staring at the packet of cheese and the bread on the counter, it became even more apparent to Clay how much he desperately did not want to eat. However, looking back up to George’s endearing smile, he nodded his head. “Yeah that sounds good.”

“Great!” George got to work, buttering the bread and laying the cheese on it. “Your stove is so needlessly complicated by the way. It took me forever to figure out how to use it.”

“I mean, the stove was here when I bought the house. It’s not like I purposely installed it just to mess with you when you visited me.”

George laughed. “That does actually sound like something that you would do.” He put the bread on the pan and a nice sizzling sound filled the room. “Kind of like… a trap or something.”

Clay let out one of his signature wheezes, clutching his stomach a little bit which was still quite achy and uncomfortable. “A TRAP?”

“Real life death swap!” George responded, referencing one of his absolute favorite video series that they had done together so far.

Clay shook his head, still wheezing a bit. “With my stove? What kind of a trap would that be?”

“A bad one. You’re such a noob, honestly!” George flipped the sandwich over to cook the other side of the bread. “Your kitchen is really nice though.”

“Thank you.” A comfortable silence resumed as George took the sandwich off of the pan and put it onto a plate before putting the second sandwich on. Sizzling filled the air once more and the delicious smell of the butter and melted cheese wafted through the air. Patches trotted into the room and jumped onto the table, where Clay stroked her absentmindedly.

It was such an oddly domestic picture. Clay, sitting at the table stroking his purring cat. George, hunched over a pan and carefully monitoring his grilled cheese sandwich, spatula in one hand so that he was ready to flip it over when the time came. It was a scene Clay could never have imagined happening but now that it was happening he could never imagine anything else. It felt so comfortable. Happy.

His train of thought was broken by the sound of a plate scraping the table as George slid it towards him. The grilled cheese looked and smelled amazing. George took a seat next to Clay with his own plate and then looked at the younger man expectantly. Clay swallowed heavily.

“This looks really good, George!” he said, partially to stall and partially to give a very genuine compliment to his friend.

George gave another bright smile. “Thanks! When I was in uni I used to make grilled cheeses for my flatmates all the time. We were broke and stupid at the time so we’d just buy the cheap packaged cheese and the cheap bread and have grilled cheese for like every other meal.” He took the sandwich to his mouth and took a big bite.

Clay stared down at his own sandwich. He hesitantly brought it to his lips and took the tiniest bite he could. He chewed it slowly and carefully and then swallowed. He took a second bite, this one slightly bigger. He could feel the nausea begin to swirl around in his stomach but he did the best to ignore it. This was so frustrating. He hadn’t stopped eating food on purpose, he had just sort of forgotten to eat and skipped meals. Yeah, his stomach felt awful and it hurt but the food would help to heal him. He _loved_ food, it was the thing he was most extravagant with in terms of spending money. Why was he having trouble eating?

_Because you can’t. You have to do a face reveal at some point. The fans will find you. They’ll judge you. You have to be perfect._

Where had that thought come from? Clay had always been a perfectly healthy weight. He wasn’t jacked and covered in muscle, but he was never even remotely chubby either. Also, even if he had been he would never have cared before. It wasn’t that big of a deal. As long as you’re healthy, having a few extra pounds didn’t matter at all and he knew that. He never used to care what he looked like, tall or short or thin or chubby or muscular or not. When had the pressure to look a certain way finally gotten to him?

He suddenly realized that he had been staring at his grilled cheese sandwich and saying nothing for far too long. Snapping back to reality, he set the sandwich down abruptly. He turned to see George looking at him with a confused expression. “Do you not like it?”

“I-“ Clay started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. George was still looking at him, and he felt as though his eyes had laser beams coming from them and ripping through his skull. _He’s looking at you. He’s judging you_ a tiny voice whispered. _Shut UP!_ He responded. He willed himself to make eye contact with George. The boy’s soft gaze cut through him like a knife.

Clay bolted.

He rushed to the bathroom, not even stopping to care what George would do or think. He darted inside and slammed the door, locking it for good measure before collapsing on the floor next to the toilet and breathing heavily. He felt so nauseous and the few bites of food had only made it worse. He knew in order to transition from not eating to eating normally again he’d have to go through a painful middle stage but he didn’t want to.

He wished he could just throw up and then give up on food altogether. He considered triggering his gag reflex and forcing the bowl of broth and the bites of grilled cheese to come back up.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Clay didn’t answer. His ragged breathing filled the silence. Not a comfortable silence like earlier. A horrible silence, awkward and deadly. He heard a few shuffling sounds from the other side of the door. “Clay?” George asked hesitantly.

The man in question squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah?”

“Can you let me in?”

A moment passed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to get up right now.” It wasn’t a lie. It didn’t matter whether or not he could (which was also in question) but for right now he simply didn’t want to. He didn’t want to open the door. He didn’t want to have to face George. To look into his eyes which would be so full of pity and judgement.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just hang out over here.” There were some rustling noises as George took a seat on the other side of the door. “Are you feeling sick again?”

Clay felt awful. This was George. His friend would never judge him. He took a deep breath and just decided to tell the truth. “Eating is......hard right now.”

George hummed softly from the other side of the door. “Interesting. It is kind of important though.”

“I know,” Clay snapped bitterly. He instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is just too much and I’m tired of feeling sick and I’m tired of being judged and…. I don’t know.” The tears welled up in his eyes yet again. Clay was so sick of crying.

“Being judged by who?” George prodded gently. “I’d never judge you Dream. You know that. I’m your best friend. You can’t do or say anything to drive me away.”

“The fans,” Clay whimpered. “I have to do a face reveal at some point… I already receive so many hate comments. They’re gonna comment about my appearance then too.” He sucked in a breath. “I know it’s stupid and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t know why I care so much.”

There was a moment of silence, and Clay was worried he said something wrong. George in the meantime was taking a moment to collect his thoughts and think of a response. “First of all, you don’t _have_ to do a face reveal. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Second of all, it’s normal to care what people think of you. You’re not above feeling hurt when you read negative things about yourself just because you have a certain subscriber account. Your fame means hate is a normal thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s something you have to be okay with. Y’know?”

“I guess,” Clay mumbled.

“About the food… It’s important that you eat. I don’t want to push you but you do need to eat. Maybe we can try again? I can try and distract you, or we could make different food!”

The bathroom door opened and George went tumbling backwards. Clay jumped in surprise, not realizing George had been leaning his back against the door the whole time. He laughed a little bit, offering the Brit a hand. When George was on his feet, he gently guided Clay back to the kitchen. Clay still look hesitant.

“Alright, let’s think about this.” George glanced at Clay and then back at the abandoned grilled cheese. “Is it the food?”

“No, I like grilled cheese. And it looks really good.”

“Okay, so the food is fine. How about the atmosphere? Your kitchen is beautiful but it’s all big and echoey. Maybe we should go eat in the living room or something? It seems smaller and cozier in there!”

Clay thought it over. “Yeah, I think maybe that might help. Worth a try, anyway.” The boys picked up their plates and brought it to the living room, where they sat on Clay’s couch. George was right, the environment did seem a bit softer in here.

“Now let’s eat! And I’m right here with you, eating too!” George took a bite of his sandwich for emphasis, chewing in not the most graceful fashion.

Clay picked up his sandwich and examined it for a second. He went to take a bite when he looked over at George, who was watching him expectantly. He froze. “I think that’s the problem,” he muttered.

“What?”

“I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“If it makes you upset then it’s not stupid, Clay. Even if you don’t understand why it makes you upset. We can work on figuring out the whys and the fixes later. Right now you just need to eat. What’s the issue?”

“You being right here with me,” Clay said, feeling extremely guilty. “Not like, in Florida. I’m so happy you came. It’s just weird to eat with someone watching you. You’re just like, looking at while I eat. And you have expectations for me. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I-“

George interrupted Clay by swinging his legs over the couch and turning away from him. Now George was sitting cross-cross applesauce on the couch with his back to Clay. “What are you doing?”

“Do the same thing I did! Put your back to mine,” George instructed. Clay did so. “There. Now we’re still eating together and spending time together, but I’m not watching you eat. I can’t see your face. Also, I won’t even look at your plate when you’re done. Just eat as much as you can. You can go and throw whatever is left away and I won’t check. No watching. No expectations. Just two friends sharing a meal.”

“I-what?”

“Just try it, trust me!” George said cheerfully. “Anyway, I was thinking about when we were talking about real life Minecraft death swap. You know, your stove? Anyway it just occurred to me but is that what an escape room is? Think about it, they build this whole trap-like place and if you don’t escape within a certain amount of time than you lose.”

Clay shifted a bit on the couch and took a bite of his sandwich. He felt lighter somehow, more free. The nausea and the dull ache in his stomach were still there, but it didn’t seem as threatening. He took another bite, listening to George’s rambling.

“I’m not sure exactly how it works, obviously. I’ve never done an escape room. I’ve just seen stuff about them online.”

“I’ve never done an escape room either,” he commented.

“With your 2000 IQ I bet you’d be great at them! You’d be out in like, record time,” George laughed. Clay laughed with him.

“They have escape rooms in Florida. Not too far away, I think there’s a place like thirty or forty minutes from here. Maybe we could go one day!”

“I’d love to!” George responded enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to do one, I think the concept is really cool.”

About thirty minutes later, George had finished ranting about the mechanics of a very specific cool escape room he had seen a Youtube Video about and Clay had finished almost all of his sandwich. Eating didn’t seem so hard anymore. In fact, he felt himself craving a little bit more. Maybe some fruit? Maybe strawberries?

“Do you think you could make an escape room in Minecraft? Surely people have done it before. I should look it up and see.” George was still going on about escape rooms.

“I’m sure it can be done. We can Google it later and see if we can find anything on there or YouTube.”

“Okay!”

Clay stood and took both his and George’s empty plates to the kitchen. True to his word, George did not look at Clay’s plate to see how much he had eaten until Clay insisted that it was alright. George beamed when he realized Clay had finished the whole thing. They left the plates in the sink and headed back to Clay’s room. The younger boy took a seat on his bed and the older sat down in the gaming chair.

“So, I feel like we should probably talk about the whole hate comment thing,” George said. “Again, I don’t want to push but I want to be here for you. This doesn’t seem like something that came out of nowhere. Are you doing okay?”

Clay took a deep breath. He might as well be honest with George. He had been keeping secrets from his friends for far too long with no good reasons and it had nearly destroyed him. He would tell George everything now. About the hate comments and the accusations of cheating and the pressure of a face reveal and how everything had gotten to be too much.

“I don’t think I’m okay, to be honest,” he started. “I haven’t been doing well recently. I-“

He was cut off by the loud sound of a phone ringing. George scrambled to pull it out of his pocket. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Oh, it’s Sap.”

“You can answer it!”

“But we were just about to talk!”

“It’s okay, we can talk later. Unless you’re gonna fly home as soon as you hand up the phone,” Clay teased. Part of him was thankful that Nick had called and ruined the moment.

“Depends on how the phone call goes,” he teased right back, sticking his tongue out at Clay in an absurdly immature manner and hitting accept.

“Gogy!” Nick greeted them.

“Hi!” George said.

“Hi!” Clay echoed.

“DREAM!” Sapnap’s scream nearly burst both of their eardrums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor or anything, but all of Clay's physical symptoms are based off of my personal experience. Whenever things get bad and I skip meals even if I'm horribly hungry I often don't want to eat because I know that I will still feel pretty bad as I transition back to eating normally. 
> 
> I don't intend on Clay having an official and diagnosed ED. Just some minor food struggles due to unhealthy habits and some mental insecurities. I have a close friend who has an ED but I personally have never had one and therefore I don't want to write one because:  
> A. Even knowing her experiences and doing research, I feel like I would not be able to accurately write it. (I have anxiety and experience panic attacks so I feel like I can write those without horrible inaccuracy).   
> B. I don't want to romanticize ED's or ANY other struggle including anxiety and panic attacks and things like that. Sometimes fics have a tendency to do that. Please do not view any of Clay's struggles in this fic as anything other than genuine struggles. Also please note that there is no such thing as "loving someone's mental illness away". While the people who are close to us can help us tremendously, please do not romanticize any struggle. Know that George is able to help Dream but through genuine (healthy) support and not just "they're in (platonic/romantic) love so the second I hug you I'm 100% healed"   
> C. I don't want this fic to be a MAJOR tw for people who have and have had EDs. 
> 
> This was a very long and serious note, sorry about that! Just realized that I do include some heavy themes in this story and thought I should address them! 
> 
> Let me know what you think of the chapter! Next chapter is much more light-hearted! :)


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